fl! 


THE  MINNESINGERS 


BY 


JETHRO  BITHELL,  M.A. 

LECTURER  IN  GERMAN  ATT\HE  UNIVERSITY  OF  MANCHESTER 


0- 


VOL.  I 
TRANSLATIONS 


HALLE  A.  D.  S. 

VERLAG  DER  BUCHHANDLUNG  DES  WAISENHAUSES 
1909 


SS-8 


V.  I 


DEDICATION 

TO  PROFESSOR  ARWID  JOHANNSON 

OF  MANCHESTER 


Je  vous  envoye  un  bouquet  que  ma  main 
Vient  de  trier  de  ces  fleurs  epanies. 

Ronsard. 


With  gratitude  I  bring  you,  and  esteem 

For  more  than  learning  noble  heart  and  speech, 

No  study-laboured  task  of  "where?"  and  "when?", 

No  autumn  fruits  of  learning,  but  a  wild 

Garland  of  flowers  in  weedy  gardens  grown; 

First  culled  where  fevered  Heine,  ocean-witched, 

Healed  him ;  and  where  the  King's  deer  fleck  the  green 

Of  Danish  beeches  scented  from  the  Sound; 

Thence  by  those  sedgy  reaches  where  the  slow 

Steamers  stir  not  the  herons  from  the  pools, 

And  spires  beloved  of  Geibel  stain  the  verge; 

And  where  gray-marbled  Isar  like  a  storm 

Crashes  along  her  stones;  and  bound  for  you 

By  Baltic  waves  and  Pomeranian  pines, 

Here  where  the  hare  I  scare  shoots  into  the  reeds, 

And  the  wildfowl  whir  up  with  their  cutting  cry 

Of  savage  desolation,  but  sea-pinks 

By  lupins  grow,  and  Riigen's  gay,  gray  walls, 

Like  hope  upon  the  future,  rim  the  sea: 

Here  at  the  northmost  bounds  of  love's  old  song. 

Eldena-Wieck,  Aug.  29 th,   1908. 


PREFACE 


For  such  frail  crockery  as  translations  a  student  with  a 
scientific  career  before  him  is  bound  to  offer  some  apology.  It  is 
the  common  belief  in  philological  circles  that  a  scholar  with  a 
wretched  nag  of  a  Pegasus  dogging  his  footsteps  had  better  turn 
on  it  in  his  early  youth,  and  take  it  by  the  throat,  and  slay  it: 
otherwise  he  is  sure  to  find  it,  when  he  is  heaping  up  his  f  i  c  h  e  s 
in  the  lone  midnight  hours,  standing  like  Bocklin's  Schweigen 
i  m  W  a  1  d  e  ,  looking  at  him  with  pitiful  eyes,  and  reminding  him 
of  weird  things  and  a  world  elsewhere.  "And  yet!"  as  Stephen 
Phillips  sings :  von  Wilamowitz-Moellendorff  is  making  the  Greek 
dramatists  as  modern  as  Ibsen,  and  Gilbert  Murray  is  singing  a 
new  music  into  old.  And  if  one  looks  at  the  criticism  of  the 
Minnesong,  there  are  no  greater  names  than  those  of  Uhland, 
Simrock,  Wackernagel,  Bartsch,  and  Scherer,  who,  each  and  all  of 
them,  treated  mediaeval  poetry,  not  as  a  quarry  to  hew  dissertations 
out  of,  but  as  a  living  source  of  inspiration  and  pleasure.  In  the  light 
of  such  examples  one  may  be  permitted  to  doubt  whether  it  is 
really  an  impediment  to  have  a  sense  of  the  sting  and  colour  of  sound. 
And  at  all  events  it  is  a  hard  fate  if  one  is  always  to  have  one's 
nose  buried  in  that  "brabantske  husflid  i  middelalderen"  which  was 
such  a  bore  to  General  Gablers  daughter. 

I  make  bold,  therefore,  to  offer  these  translations  as  an  inde- 
pendent volume.  If  they  are  poems,  they  should  need  no  commen- 
tary :  that  they  are  poems  in  the  original,  is  certain.  A  commen- 
tary, however,  not  to  this  volume  merely,  but  to  the  whole  body 
of  the  Minnesong,  is  in  preparation,  and  will  appear,  si  fata 
s  i  n  e  n  t ,  in  about  a  year's  time  as  Vol.  2.  It  will  be  an  attempt 
at  a  history  of  the  Minnesong,  as  compared  with  the  old  lyrical 


VI       

poetry  of  Provence,  Portugal,  and  Italy,  and  will,  I  hope,  be  of 
more  interest  to  scholars  than  these  translations,  which  they  may 
regard  as  the  by-products  of  a  more  painful  process  -  -  the  ex- 
traction of  parallel  passages.  The  two  volumes  should,  by  rights, 
have  appeared  together,  but  the  translations  were  easier,  and  are 
finished  first : 

"dem  lihtgemuoten  dem  1st  iemer  wol 

mit  lihten  dingen  als  ez  sol". 

Both  this  volume  and  its  hopeful  brother  of  next  autumn  owe 
much  to  the  exhaustive  interpretation  of  Professor  Hermann  Paul, 
whose  Seminar  on  the  Minnesingers  in  1906  I  was  enabled  by 
the  generosity  of  the  University  of  Manchester  to  attend.  It  was 
at  that  time  the  painful  duty  of  Professor  C.  H.  Herford  to  read 
these  youthful  attempts  in  an  art  of  which  he  is  past-master, 
and  some  of  the  happier  lines  are  stolen  (with  apologies)  from  his 
carelessly  scribbled  emendations.  My  dedication  to  Professor 
Johannson  is  intended  rather  to  express  the  general  admiration  of 
his  Honours  men  than  special  thanks  for  furtherance  in  the  com- 
pletion of  this  work ;  but  I  must  say  here  that  he  is  the  f  o  n  s  e  t 
o  r  i  g  o  of  the  same,  and  that  it  is  by  his  mandate  that  it  goes 
forth.  The  translations  were,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  ready  for 
publication  on  my  return  from  Munich  in  1906 ;  but  in  the  autumn 
of  that  year  Mr.  F.  C.  Nicholson  published  his  "Old  German  Love 
Songs",  consisting  of  translations  of  the  Minnesong  so  accurate 
that  I  did  not  at  that  moment  see  the  necessity  of  a  similar  publi- 
cation. I  have,  however,  continued  my  spade-work :  and,  as  this 
will  be  considerably  elucidated  by  my  own  translations,  I  have  now 
decided  to  publish  them.  It  will  be  found  that  Mr.  Nicholson's 
work  is  entirely  different  from  mine  in  scope  and  execution :  my 
volume,  too,  is  far  more  extensive,  and  I  have  made  an  attempt  at 
the  important  poems  which  Mr.  Nicholson  modestly  refrained  from 
touching.  The  main  point  in  which  my  method  differs  from  that 
of  my  predecessor  is  that  1  have  endeavoured  to  reproduce,  in 
practically  all  cases,  the  feminine  rimes  of  the  originals. 

I  have,  moreover,  as  far  as  my  artistic  conscience  would 
allow  me,  adopted  the  plaster-cast  method  of  translation.  The  very 
rare  cases  in  which  I  have  broken  up  or  modified  the  metre  of  the 
original  are  in  the  nature  of  experiments ;  but  I  have  not  scrupled 
to  abridge,  transpose,  and  even  touch  up  where  by  so  doing  an 


VII         — 

improvement  seemed  possible.  My  idea  has  been,  as  far  as  my 
power  goes,  to  express  the  thought  as  the  Minnesinger  might  have 
expressed  it,  had  he  been  writing  in  English:  rather  to  be  "sinn- 
getreu"  than  "wortgetreu".  Purity  of  rimes  I  held  essential,  for 
the  technique  of  the  Minnesingers,  after  the  first  rude  experiments, 
is  flawless. 

I  could  not  reconcile  it  with  my  sense  of  duty  to  Bowdlerize, 
except  in  extreme  cases.  To  winnow  the  poetry  of  .love  seems  to 
me  like  holding  a  mission  in  a  music-hall  —  laudable,  but  out  of 
place.  And  it  must  be  remembered  that  not  only  is  the  very  flower 
of  this  old  German  poetry,  the  Dawn-Song,  set  in  immorality,  but 
that  all  the  hair-brained  love  is  adulterous, 

"Love  unallowed, 

Far  lovelier  for  the  dark  and  delicate  sin," 

as  the  gallant  knights  themselves  (one  must  admit  and  deplore  it) 
considered. 

To  the  "gentle  reader"  I  apologise  for  the  ballast  of  my  notes : 
they  are  intended  for  the  hardy  plodders  through  the  originals. 
They  may,  however,  prove  interesting  to  medievalists  in  other  fields 
than  German:  the  Dante  scholar,  for  instance,  might  be  put  on 
the  track  of  finding  in  the  Vita  N  u  o  v  a  all  the  elements  (and 
little  else)  of  a  Troubadour  lyric:  service  from  childhood,  neuras- 
thenia interpreted  as  love,  shyness  amounting  to  agony,  anonymity, 
and  a  "bare  greeting"  sought  from  a  lady  who  mocks. 

The  Folksongs,  from  a  later  period  than  the  Minnesong,  may 
serve  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  the  book,  but  they  are  really 
intended  for  the  purpose  of  future  discussion. 

In  conclusion,  it  is  a  pleasure  to  acknowledge  my  indebted- 
ness to  my  friends  Mr.  John  Keegan ,  M.  A.,  and  Mr.  F.  E. 
Nuttall,  M.  A.,  for  reading  the  proofs  and  correcting  my  fitful 
English. 

Cleethorpes,  Sep.  25 th,    1908. 

J.  Bithell. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

Dedication Ill 

Preface V 

Principal  works  quoted  in  the  notes XI 

Corrections XIII 

I.    Anonymous I 

II.    Der  von  Kiirenberg 10 

in.    Sir  Dietmar  von  Aist 13 

IV.    Spervogel  I 17 

V.    Sir  Meinloh  von  Sevelingen 19 

VI.    The  Burgrave  of  Ratisbon 21 

VII.    The  Burgrave  of  Rietenburg 22 

VIII.    Sir  Heinrich  von  Veldeke 23 

IX.    Sir  Friedrich  von  Hausen 27 

X.    Sir  Heinrich  von  Rugge 30 

XI.    Sir  Albrecht  von  Johannsdorf 31 

XII.    Der  von  Kolmas - 33 

XIII.  Sir  Hartwig  von  Raute 34 

XIV.  Sir  Bligger  von  Steinach 35 

XV.    Sir  Heinrich  von  Morungen - 35 

XVI.    Sir  Reinmar  von  Hagenau 45 

XVII.    Spervogel  II 5° 

XVIII.    Sir  Hartmann  von  Aue 52 

XIX.    The  Margrave  of  Hohenburg 55 

XX.    Sir  Hildbold  von  Schwangau 57 

XXI.    Sir  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide 57' 

XXII.    Sir  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach 101 

XXIII.  Sir  Heinrich  von  Frauenberg 104 

XXIV.  The  Virtuous  Scribe 105 

XXV.    Freidank's  Wisdom •    .- 107 

XXVI.    Sir  Neidhart  von  Reuental 1 1 1 

XXVII.    Count  Otto  von  Botenlauben H7 

XXVIII.    The  Duke  of  Anhalt 118 

XXIX.    The  Sewer  of  St.  Gall "9 

XXX.    Count  Friedrich  von  Leiningen      .     .     . 1*9 

XXXI.  Sir  Christian  von  Hamle                                                                .     .     .  121 


Page 

X  XXXII.  Sir  Ulrich  von  Liechtenstein 122 

XXXIII.  Sir  Burkhart  von  Hohenfels 126 

XXXIV.  The  Burgrave  of  Liienz 128 

XXXV.  Sir  Gottfried  von  Neifen 130 

XXXVI.  Der  Taler 132 

XXXVII.  Sir  Ulrich  von  Winterstetten 133 

XXXVIII.  Der  von  Sachsendorf 134 

XXXIX.  Sir  Reinmar  von  Zweter 135 

XL.  Sir  Rudolf  von  Rotenburg 140 

XLI.  Sir  Tannhauser I41 

XLII.  Count  Kraft  von  Toggenburg 14? 

XLIII.  Sir  Hugo  von  Werbenwag I48 

XLIV.  Sir  Walther  von  Metz 148 

XLV.  Sir  Rubin H9 

XL VI.  Sir  Wachsmut  von  Mulnhausen 150 

XLVII.  Sir  Geltar 151 

XLVin.  Margrave  Henry  the  Illustrious  of  Meiszen 152 

XLIX.  Sir  Herrand  von  Wildonje 152 

L.  He  of  Suneck i$3 

LI.  King  Conradin 154 

LH.  Conrad  von  Wiirzburg i$5 

LIII.  The  Wild  Alexander 156 

LIV.  Sir  Steinmar 161 

LV.  Frauenlob 165 

LVT.  Margrave  Otto  of  Brandenburg  with  the  Arrow 167 

LVIL  Duke  Henry  of  Breslau 168 

LVIII.  Duke  John  of  Brabant 169 

LIX.  King  Wenceslas  of  Bohemia 170 

LX.  John  Hadlaub 171 

LXI.  Der  Guoter 173 

LXII.  Sir  Heinrich  Hetzbold  von  Weiszensee 175 

LXIII.  Sir  Albrecht  the  Marshal  of  Rapperschwyl 175 

LXIV.  Der  Durner 176 

LXV.  Sir  Christian  von  Lupin 176 

LXVI.  Heinrich  von  Mugeln 177 

LXVII.  Sir  Hugo  von  Montfort 177 

LXVIII.  Sir  Oswald  von  Wolkenstein •  178 

LXIX.  Life  and  Death  of  the  Noble  Brennenberger 189 

LXX.  Folk-songs 195 

Appendix 203 


PRINCIPAL  WORKS  QUOTED  IN  THE  NOTES. 

A  complete  bibliography  will  be   given  in  Vol.  II;   the  following   only  contains  books 
mentioned  in  the  notes.     (The  editions  given  are  those  which  I  have  used). 


Bartsch,  Chrestomathie  de  1'ancien  fran9ais.  4*^  ed.  Leipzig  1880;  6th  ed.  Leipzig  1895. 
—     Chrestomathie  provenc,ale.     6th  ed.     Marburg  1904. 

Grundrifi  zur  Geschichte  der  provenzalischen  Literatur.     Elberfeld  1872. 
Burdach,  Reinmar  der  Alte  und  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide.     Leipzig  1880. 
CB  =  Carmina  Burana  (ed.  Schmeller).     Stuttgart  1847. 
Chr.  pr.  and  Chr.  fr.,  v.  Bartsch. 

Diez  =  Friedrich  Diez,  Die  Poesie  der  Troubadours.   Zwickau  1826. 
Drayton,  Poly-Olbion;  the  edition  quoted  is  that  of  the  Spenser  Society.    1889 — 90. 
Farnell  (Ida),  The  Lives  of  the  Troubadours.     London   1896. 
Frauend.  =  Ulrichs  von  Liechtenstein  Frauendienst ,   ed.    Bechstein  (Deutsche  Dich- 

tungen  des  Mittelalters).     Leipzig  1888. 

Freid.  =  Fridankes  Bescheidenheit ,  ed.  Bezzenberger.     Halle  1872. 
Gummere  (Francis  B.),  The  Popular  Ballad.     London,  Boston,  and  New  York  1907. 
Hadlaub,  Ettm.  =  Joh.  Hadloubes  Gedichte,  ed.  Ettmuller.     Zurich  1841. 
Haltaus  (K.)t  Das  Liederbuch  der  Clara  Hatzlerin.     Quedlinburg  1840. 
Haupt,  v.  Neidhart. 

Hertz  (Wilhelm),  Tristan  und  Isolde.     5^  ed.     Stuttgart  and  Berlin   1907. 
HMS  =  Minnesinger,  Deutsche  Liederdichter  des  12.,   13.  und  14.  Jahrhunderts,  ed. 

von  der  Hagen.    4  vols.    Leipzig   1838. 

Hiippe  (Bernhard),  Lieder  und  Spriiche  der  Minnesinger.     Minister  1844. 
H.  v.  M(ont)  (Mt.)  =  Hugo  von  Montfort,  ed.  Wackernell.     Innsbruck  1881. 
Jeanr.  =  Jeanroy  (Alfred),   Les  origines  de  la  poesie   lyrique  en  France  au  moyen- 

age.     Paris   1889. 

Knorr  (Karl),  Cber  Ulrich  von  Lichtenstein  (QF  IX).     StraBburg  1875. 
Labe  (Louise),  CEuvres,  p.  p.  Charles  Boy.     Paris  1887. 

Lexer  (Matthias),   Mittelhochdeutsches   Handworterbuch.     3  vols.     Leipzig  1872  —  78. 
Logau  (F.  v.),  Sinngedichte,  ed.  Eitner.     Leipzig   1870. 
MacCallum,  Low  German  and  High  German  Literature.     London  1884. 
Marot  (Clement),  CEuvres,  p.  p.  Charles  1'Hericault.     Paris  1867. 
Matz.  =  Matzner,  Eduard,  Altfranzosische  Lieder.     Berlin   1853. 


—      XII      

MF  =  Des    Minnesangs    Friihling,    ed.    Laclimann    and    Haupt.       Leipzig   1888    (by 

F.  Vogt). 
Michel  =  Michel  (Ferdinand),    Heinrich    von   Morungen    und   die   Troubadours  (QF 

XXXVIII).     Straflburg  1880. 
LD  =  Deutsche  Liederdichter  des  12.— 14.  Jahrhunderts.     4^  ed.     Berlin   1901.    Ed. 

Karl  Bartsch  and  Wolfgang  Golther. 

Neidh.  =  Die  Lieder  Neidharts  von  Reuenthal,  ed.  Keinz.     Leipzig   1889. 
Neidh.,  Haupt  =  Neidhart  von  Reuenthal,  ed.  Haupt.     Leipzig   1858. 
Nicholson  (Frank  C.),  Old  German  Love  Songs.     London   1907. 
Osw.  =  Die  Gedichte  Oswalds  von  Wolkenstein,  ed.  Schatz.     Gottingen  1904. 
Parz.  =  Karl  Bartsch,  Wolframs  von  Eschenbach  Parzival.     Leipzig  1870 —  77. 
Paul,  v.  Walther. 
Pfaff  =  Der    Minnesang    des    12.  bis    1 4.  Jahrhunderts ,    ed.    Pfaff.    2  vols.     Stuttgart 

[1892]. 

Roe  the  (Gustav),  Die  Gedichte  Reinmars  von  Zweter.     Leipzig  1887. 
R.  v.  Z.,  v.  Roethe. 

Ron  sard  (P.  de),  CEuvres  completes,  p.  p.  M.  Prosper  Blanchemain.    3  vols.  Paris  1867. 
Rowbotham  (J.  F.),  The  Troubadours  and  Courts  of  Love.     London   1895. 
Schmidt  (Erich),  Reinmar  von  Hagenau  und  Heinrich  von  Rugge  (QF  IV).     StraB- 

burg  1874. 
Schonbach,    Beitrage    zur    Erklarung    altdeutscher    Dichtwerke.     Erstes   Stuck:    Die 

alteren  Minnesanger.    Vienna  1899. 
Schultz  =  Schultz  (Alwin),  Das  hofische  Leben  zur  Zeit  der  Minnesinger.  2  vols.  Leipzig 

1879  and   1880. 
Symonds  (John  Addington),  Wine,  Women,  and  Song  (The  King's  Classics).    London 

1907. 

Taylor  (Bayard),  Studies  in  German  Literature.     New  York   1879. 
Tristan  by  Gottfried  von  StraBburg,  ed.  Marold.     Leipzig   1906. 
Uhland  (Ludwig),  Abhandlung  iiber  das  deutsche  Volkslied  (Schriften  zur  Geschichte 

der  Dichtung  und  Sage.    Vols.  3  and  4.    Stuttgart  1866). 
—     Alte    hoch-  und   niederdeutsche  Volkslieder.    2  vols.     Stuttgart    and    Tubingen 

1844  —  45. 

Ulrich  von  Liechtenstein,  v.  Frauend. 

Wack.,  Kl.  Schr.  =  Kleinere  Schriften  von  Wilhelm  Wackernagel.   vol.  I.   Leipzig  1872. 
Wackernell,  v.  H.  v.  M. 
Waldb.  =  Die   Galante  Lyrik  von  Max   Freiherr  von  Waldberg   (QF  LVI).    Strafi- 

burg  1885. 

Walt.,  Paul  =  Die  Gedichte Walthers  von  derVogelweide,  ed.  Hermann  Paul.  Halle  1894. 
Walt.,  Pf.  =  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide,  ed.  Franz  Pfeiffer.  bth  ed.  Leipzig  1880. 
Walt(h).  (Wilm.)  =  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide,  ed.  W.  Wilmanns.  Halle  1896. 
Weinh.  =  Die  Deutschen  Frauen  in  dem  Mittelalter  von  Karl  Weinhold.  2  vols. 

Vienna  1882. 

Wilm.,  Leben  =  Leben  und  Dichten  Walthers  von  der  Vogelweide.     Von  W.  Wil- 
manns.    Bonn   1882. 
Wyndham  (George),  Ronsard  et  la  Pleiade.     London   1906. 


XIII       

The  text  of  the  Folk-songs  is  from  the  following  books: 
Achim  von  Arnim  und  Clemens  Brentano.     Des  Knaben  Wunderhorn.     3  vols. 

Heidelberg  1806— 8. 

Das  Deutsche  Volkslied,  ed.  Sahr,  Sammluug  Goschen.     No.  25. 
Von  rosen  ein  krentzelein,  ed.  Stierling.     Diisseldorf. 


Note.     Poems  and  stanzas  spoken  by  women  are,  as  in  the  German  editions, 
put  in  inverted  commas. 


CORRECTIONS  AND  ADDITIONS. 


P.  10,  27,  1.  6,  mantel,  read  mantle. 

P.  12,  note  2,  1.  2,  Jeanroi,  read  Jeanroy. 

P.  19,  3,  1.  5,    serves  a  noble  lady,  delete  noble. 

P.  32,  note  i,  1.  2,  Jeanroi,  read  Jeanroy. 

P.  72,  14,  title,  Love's  sight,  read  Lovesight  (Rossetti's  "House  of  Life",  IV). 

P.  96,  note  i,  Venice,  read  Vienna. 

P.  99,  1.  II.  breaking,  read  glazing. 

P.  133,  note  2,  Humphrey,  read  Humphry. 

P.  134,  note   i,  1.  2,  o,   read  fo. 

P.  136,  5,  title,    Ores  imite  Cesar,    read  Ores  Cesar  imite  (du  Bellay's  sonnet 

"Charles  Quint  et  Paul  IV"). 
P.  137,  6,  1.  8,  an  king,  read  a  king. 
P.  153,  note  i,  1.  4,  Ode  XXXII  add  Livre  IV. 
P.  1 60,  1.  20:  I  read,  for  the  sake  of  sense,  ez  muoz. 
P.  I/O,  LIX,  title,  i'QWTit,    read  f'owra. 
P.  177,  LXVII,   Hugo,  read  Sir  Hugo. 


I.  Anonymous; 

l. 

Mine  art  thou,  thine  am  I : 

Deem  not  that  in  this  I  lie. 

Locked  thou  art 

In  my  heart; 

Never  canst  thou  thence  depart: 

For  the  key  is  lost,  sweetheart. 


If  that  all  the  world  were  mine 
From  the  ocean  to  the  Rhine, 
I  would  let  it  go  to  glean 
One  embrace  of  England's  Queen.1 

3. 

Laetatur  amor  latebris. 

Secret  love  is  fair  and  good ; 2 
Giveth  joy  and  hardihood. 
Seek  it,  and  be  not  ashamed. 
But  if  thou  inconstant  prove, 
Thou  shalt  be  a  nithing  named. 

4. 

O  my  Luve's  like  a  red,  red  rose. 

"Methinks  that  in  the  world  is  nought  above 

The  bright  rose,  and  my  own  true  love. 

The  woods   are  ringing  with  the  wild  birds'   song, 

To  many  a  heart  so  sweet  and  dear: 

But  if  my  love  come  not  to  me  ere  long, 

No  summer  joys  can  cheer." 

1)  Refers  to  Queen  Eleanor  of  Aquitaine.     Cf.  CB,  51,  2   "placet  plus  Franciae 
regina".     She   had  accompanied  Louis  VII  on  the  2^  Crusade.     V.  Schultz  II,  206. 

2)  Cf.  LD,  XXXIV,   182  —  4.     Wilm.,  Leben,  note  III,  8. 
Bithell,  The  Minnesingers.     I.  I 


5.' 

"The  lime  is  after  months  of  summer 
Smooth  and  bare  from  roots  to  crest. 
My  truelove  he  has  grown  unfriendly: 
I  pay  for  what  I  ne'er  possessed. 

0  there  are  many  wanton  women, 

To  cheat  his  sense  with  beck  and  jest! 

1  swear  —  and  may  the  Lord  believe  me !  — 
That  I  am  she  who  loves  him  best. 

They  can  do  nothing  but  betray  him, 
And  the  child's  heart  within  his  breast. 
Alas  for  his  young  years  that  bring  me 
In  fear  of  evil  deep  unrest!" 

6.1 

Persarum  vigui  rege  beatior. 

Mightier  than  the  realm  of  Rome  I  hold  me,2 
When  my  lady's  gentle  arms  enfold  me. 
With  the  virtues  that  endue  her 
She  has  freed  from  care  my  mind. 
Ne'er  I  came  from  her  so  far, 
Since  in  her  sweet  youth  I  knew  her, 
But  my  heart  remained  with  her  behind. 

"On  a  valorous  knight  my  soul  is  anchored, 
Spite  of  all  the  hate  and  envy  cankered 
Other  ladies  on  me  cast. 
Though  they  swear  to  spy  on  us 
Till  they  find  him  out,  my  joy 
That  I  have  of  him  shall  last. 
None  e'er  pleased  me  better  than  he  does." 

7. 

"Wilt  thou  from  hence  be  riding? 
And  are  the  night  hours  run?  - 
Thou  in  my  heart  abiding 
With  room  for  others  none ! 

1)  The  following  3  poems  are  attributed  to  Kaiser  Heinricb  VI. 

2)  Cf.  H.  v.  Mt ,  2,  7;  Waller,  "On  a  Girdle";   Heine,  uSalamo";  Ronsard  (re- 
ferring   to    Mary  Stuart):    "Avoir  joui    d'une  telle  beaute,    Sein  centre  sein,  valait    ta 
royaute."      Matz.,  p.  253. 


3 

Unless  them  soon  returnest, 

My  life  I  must  forsake: 

And  God  could  not  repay  me, 

If  want  of  thee  should  slay  me," 

The  lovely  lady  spake. 

"For  all  the  close  embraces 

I  thank  thee  ere  we  part ; 

By  day  and  night  thy  place  is 

Within  my  inmost  heart. 

Thou  art  the  glory  of  my  thoughts; 

And  thee  as  dear  I  hold  — 

Now  mark  the  meaning,  dearest  — 

As  jewels  that  shine  clearest 

When  they  are  set  in  gold."1 

8. 

Since  fate  does  not  allow  me  to  be  near  her, 
I  send  my  soul  sweet  in  a  chosen  song; 
Alas !  since  words  of  mine  own  mouth  could  cheer  her, 
Long  days  have  wreaked  intolerable  wrong. 
Whoe'er  will   sing  her  these,2  where  is  renewed 
The  plaint  of  woe  by  want  of  her  endued, 
And  be  it  man  or  woman,  hath  my  gratitude. 

Since  then  her  perfect  face  my  love  entrances 
Unshaken  to  adore   her  at  the  shrine 
My  heart  has  built  to  her  of  tender  fancies, 
And  sweet  complaints  that  kiss  and  intertwine 
Above  her  image,  say,  what  is  love's  boon?  — 
Sweeter  than  all  things  else  beneath  the  moon. 
And  shall  I  abdicate  my  love?    My  crown  as  soon! 

Perjured  is  he  who  dares  to  disbelieve  me, 
When  I  maintain  I  still  will  hold  my  head 
Erect,  though  traitors  of  my  crown  bereave  me: 
But  tear  my  love  from  me  and  I  am  dead. 
I  should  with  her  lose  all  I  e'er  possessed: 
A  death's-head  at  the  banquet  of  the  rest, 
To  be  a  cursed  outlaw  would  console  me  best. 

1)  Cf.  CB,  168,8;  Walt.,  Wilm.,  69,  18;  H.  v.  M.,  XIX,  5— 6,  XXVIII.  8l. 

2)  Cf.  LU,  LI,  65. 

i* 


9. 

"A  knight  hath  been  with  might  and  main 
My  vassal,  and  I  must  accord, 
Or  e'er  the  season  turns  again," 
A  lady  speaketh,  "his  reward. 
Methinks  the   snow  in  winter   hours 
Is  clover  green  and  lovely  flowers,1 
When  I  embrace  him  close:  and  he  — 
Though  all  the  world  should  be  aggrieved  - 
Shall  have  his  will  on  me/' 2 

10. 

The  forest  in  green  hues  is  dight : 
Oho,  the  happy  time  is  here! 
Sudden  my  cares   have  taken  flight; 
And  blessings  on  the  lady  dear 
Who  in  good  earnest  makes   me   blest. 
Now  I  am  glad:  'tis  her  behest. 

With  backward  glance  and  beckoning  sly 
She  cheered  me  when  I  saw  her  last. 
And  needs  must  happen,  by  and  by, 
She  whispered  quickly,  as  she  passed: 
"Friend,  be  thou  ready  for  much  bliss!" 
What  manna  to  my  heart  is  this! 

"Although  I  fear  that  I  shall  rue  — " 
As  yet  unsure  she  speaks  again. 
Nay,   only   make   your  promise   true: 
I  am  no  villain  of  disdain: 
And  as  you  wish  me  I  will  be.s 
Laugh,  O  lady  dear  to  me ! 

11. 

Heu  quis  me  amabit? 

"Floret  silva  undique, 

With  my  truelove  I  would  be. 

Green  is  the  wood  on  every  side, 

Where,  O  where  does  my  love  bide? 

He  has  ridden  far  away: 

Who  will  be  my  love  to-day?" 


i)  Cf.  Walt.,  26,  10  seq.;   Paul,   19,  10;   LD,  XC, 
25—32;  Matz.,  p.  223. 

a)  Cf.  LD,  XXXIV,   197  —  200:  Walt.  3,  17  —  18. 
3)  See  Schmidt,  Reinm.  p.  119. 


seq. ;   H.  v.  M.,  XIX, 


5 

12. 

Le  gentil  rossignolet. 

The  nightingale  poured  out  her  song 
With  such  a  will,  methinks  it  were 
To  thank  her  not  a  cruel  wrong. 
Then  did  my  thoughts  ring  out  to  her 
Who  is  my  fancies'  arbiter. 

13. 

Et  vos  concinite. 

I  lie  with  her  in  dreams.     Alas  the  hour 

I  saw  her!  —  for  they  keep  her  in  her  bower 

Close  shielded  ever  from  my  love  distraught, 

And  I  can  love    her  but  in  faithful  thought. 

All  ye  who  hear,  join  in  this  anthem  sorrow-fraught ! 

14. 

Alas  for  years  in  pleasure  spent, 
And  forfeited  to  the  usurer  Dame  World! 
She  lay  in  wait  for  me  where'er  I  went, 
And  nigh  into  the  pit  her  prey  had  hurled. 
But  Love  recalls  to  my  unheeding  mind, 
Christ  came  on  earth  to  rescue  humankind, 
And  intercedes  for  us  till  judgment-day: 
His  love  has  brought  me  into  orders  grey. 

15. 

I  am  in  sweet  distress, 
It  is  a  grievous  woe: 
And  all  because  of  the  winter  cold, 
And  also  the  white  snow. 
But  if  the  summer  were  nigh  at  hand, 
Then  would  I  show  me  blithe  and  bland, 
And  praise  the  fairest  lady  in  the  land. 

16. 

Send  out  a  song  over  the  country-side,1 
O  nightingale,  to  move  my  queen  of  pride! 
Sing  wild,  as  though  it  were  my  passion  cried 
For  her  sweet  body  and  the  love  denied. 

i)  Cf.  LD,  LXI,   1—2;   "Faust"  I,  1.  2101  —  2. 


17. 

Virgo  dum  florebam. 

"Where  with  clover  is  y-clad 

The  green,  green  lea, 

I  met  my  true  love,  as  he  bade: 

The  worse  for  me. 

Tralala,  tralala,  tralala!"1 

18. 

Redeunt  iam  gramina  campis. 

Strong  winter  hath  ta'en  him  away, 

Summer  cometh  in  lovely  array. 

Wood  and  moorland  don  to-day 

Flowers  in  the  grass  and  leaves  on  the  spray. 

This  our  pleasaunce  shall  not  soon  decay. 

Come  let  us  dance  round  the  gay  lime 
Now,  lady  mine! 
Let  us  be  glad  of  the  Maytime, 
Long  as  the  sun  will  shine. 
Winter,   that  his  hoar-frost  shed 
On  the  moorland's  bed, 
In  disgrace  is  flying, 
In  his  place  are  lying 
Flowers   red.2 

19. 

Nemus  revirescit. 

The  forest  stands  in  colours  bright, 
The  birds  are   singing  everywhere, 
And  manifold  is  our  delight. 
Now  love  that  paled  in  cold  and  care 
Grows  ruddy  in  the  young  May's  sight. 
Sir  May,  to  you  the  seasons'  prize 
Belongeth:  Winter  we  despise. 

1)  Cf.  CB  146. 

2)  A  closer  translation,  which  preserves  better  the  sensuous  image: 

Winter,  that  with  love's  distress 
Filled  the  heath,  is  fled; 
She  is  held  by  flowers  red 
In  a  glad  caress. 


20. 

Congaudete  floribus. 

Now  we  can  frolic  as  we  please, 

And  carol  all  the  day, 

And  dance  upon  the  flowery  leas, 

In  the  merry  month  of  May. 

Then  let  us  dance,  and  swing,  and  sway, 

And  make  the  echoes  call : 

For  it  behoves  the  young  to  play, 

Yea,  and  to  toss  the  ball. 

How  fair  my  love  I  cannot  say! 

Loveth  she  me  at  all? 

21. 1 

Journeys  end  in  lovers'  meeting. 
By  a  broad  mead  as  I  strayed, 
All  o'  the  morning  early, 
There  a  maid  my   steps   waylaid, 
Greeted  me  so  fairly: 
"Truelove,  whither  are  ye  roaming? 
Would  not  two  be  better?"  — 
To  the  ground  I  bowed,  and  vowed 
I  was  glad  to  have  met  her. 

22. 

Tactu  sanabor  labiorum. 

Truelove,  come  O  come  to  me, 
I  am  waiting  here  for  thee : 
I  am  waiting  here  for  thee, 
Truelove,  come  O  come  to  me! 

Sweetest  mouth  red  as  the  rose, 
Come  and  heal  me  of  my  woes : 2 
Come  and  heal  me  of  my  woes, 
Sweetest  mouth   red  as  the  rose.3 

23. 

The  month  of  May  is  com  en. 

I  will  greet  the  summer  sweetly  as  I  can! 
Heavy  woe  was  on  me  while  the  winter  ran: 

1)  Cf.  CB,  63. 

2)  Cf.  Matz.  p.  240;  E.  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p.  112 — 115. 

3)  This  poem  is  an  example  of  the  so-called  Palindrome,  or  Riicklauf. 


Put  him  in  the  ladies'  ban. 

On  the  boughs  the  buds  are  filling; 

Let  us  haste  away, 

Welcome  in  the  May ! 

I'll  begin  the  dance,  if  you  are  willing. 

24. 

Die  Fenster  auf!     Die  Herzen  auf!1 

"I  will  hang  my  head  no  more : 
Out  of  the  house  and  bang  the  door! 
Comrades  mine,  in  fields  and  woods 
I  have  seen  the  opening  buds. 
I  say  to  thee,  I  say  to  thee, 
Truelove,  come  O  come  with  me! 

Listen,   Love  benign  and  sweet! 
Make  for  me  a  garland  meet 
For  the  hair  of  the  fair 
Youth  to  ladies  debonair. 
I  say  to  thee,  I  say  to  thee, 
Truelove,  come   O   come  with  me!" 

25.2 

Woe  !     Woe  for  evermore ! 
Largesse  and  chivalry  are  weeping  sore 
Bohemia's  King. 

Where  shall  now  the  hand  be  sought 
Was  to  all  the  needy  raught? 
My  curse  on  thee,  O  Death,  I  fling! 
Raise,  O  raise  the  wail  of  woe! 
Lord  God,  our  Ottokar  lies  low: 
The  debonair  to  friend  and  foe, 


1)  The  poem  by  Wilhelm  Miiller  which  begins  with  this  line  should  be  com- 
pared with  the  mhg.  Friihlingslieder. 

2)  A  dirge   on   the   death  of  Ottokar,  King  of  Bohemia,  a  Maecenas  of  those 
days  — 

"The  man  who  wore  like  garlands  all  his  crowns, 
And,  when  the  one  was  withered,  wove  another 
From  flowers  in  others'  gardens  freshly  gathered." 

(Grillparzer  in  the  great  play  Carlyle  was  unable  to  appreciate).  His  son,  Wenzel  II, 
is  one  of  the  Minnesingers  represented  in  this  volume,  while  two  others,  the  Duke 
of  Breslau  and  the  Margrave  of  Meiszen,  fought  on  his  side  against  Rudolf  of  Habsburg. 


—     9 

Of  Christendom,  as  all  men  know, 
Ever  the  shield! 

The    heathens    and    the    Cuman    race,1 
Loathed  of  the  Saviour,  he   from  place  to   place 
Drove,   and   with   terror   filled. 
The  lion-hearted, 
Who  like  the  eagle  darted2 
Down  on  the  foe,  is  killed! 
Bohemia's  King  lies  vanquished  on  the  plain: 
Eyes,  your  flood   of  sorrow  rain ; 
Who  shall  the  widow's  orphans   now  maintain? 
The  King  is  as  a  warrior  slain 
On  honour's  field. 

26. 

Mature  propior  desine  funeri  inter  ludere  virgines. 

An  old  woman  she  thought  to  dance, 
Wrinkled  was  her  countenance. 
"You  must  mind  the  house,  O  daughter,  to-day; 
For  I  am  going  out  to  play." 

"Sweet  mother  of  mine,"  the  daughter  laughed, 
"O  surely  ye  are  growing  daft! 
For  many  and  many  a  year  agone 
Snow  has  been  strewn  your  locks  upon." 

Up  darted  the  harridan  like  a  bird: 
"My  merry  voice  shall  now  be  heard! 
I  can  feel  in  my  hips  such  a  dancing  quiver, 
I  could  jump  clean  over  a  roaring  river. 

Then,  daughter,  open  the  door  full  wide, 
That  I  dance  in  his  arms  who  is  waiting  outside. 
Take  a  peep  o'er  my  back  at  the  young  squire  there, 
And  feed  your  eyes  on  his  yellow  hair." 

—  "I  will  go  in  your  place,  sweet  mother,  good-bye ! 
O  doesn't  he  make  the  time  to  fly! 
He's  been  waiting  for  me  there  ever  so  long." 
—  Sir  Neidhart   sang  this  dancing-song. 

1)  The  Cumans  were  Turkish  tribes,   who  invaded  Hungary  in  the  IIth  cen- 
tury.    They  were  not  chiistianised  till   1278,  when  a  successful  campaign  against  them 
was  inaugurated  by  Pope  Nicholas  IV. 

2)  Cf.  Walt,  Pf.,   136,8—9;  Wilm.,  Leben,  note  II,   197. 


IO        — 

27. 

Methought  a  lady  well  y-clad; 
Next  to  her  pure  limbs  a  shirt 
All   full   of   chastity   she   had, 
With  constancy  securely  girt; 
A  bodice  of  gentility  she  put 
Thereover,  and  a  mantel  of  shame's  hue, 
Which  by  decorum  had  been  cut;  - 
Ladies,  patterns  these  for  you! 

Ladies'   speech,   Ladies'  sight, 
Ladies'  hearing  —  they  shall  guard 
So:  that  to  the  flight 
Of  evil  words  their  ears  are  barred ! 
That  in  decorum's  bounds  is  all  they  say : 
That  nothing  they  behold  can  shame 
Their  purity;  —  and  then  for  aye 
Stainless  is  the  page  of  their  good  fame.11 


II.  Der  von  Kiirenberg. 

1. 

"That  lovers  dear  be  parted,  it  is  a  grievous  thing! 
To  keep  one's  truelove  ever,  this  is  more  comforting; 
This  custom  I  will  follow. 

Entreat  him  still  to  love  me,  and  never  to  forget 
The  tender  words  we  whispered  the  last  time  that  we  met." 

2. 

Why  mindest  me  of  sorrow,  beloved  of  my  heart? 
May  I  not  live  to  see  it  if  we  must  go  apart! 
For  should  I  lose  thy  love, 

Then  all  the  folks  about  me  shall  very  clearly  see 
That  never  a  soul  among  them  is  wretched  like  to  me. 

3. 

"Sweet  is  love's  bliss,  but  bitter  is  its  woe : 

It  chanced  a  courtly  knight  I  came  to  know; 

Since  rancorous  watchers  robbed  him   from  my   breast, 

Never  came  hour  of  calm  to  my  unrest." 

i)  Cf.  LD,  XVI,  67  seq.;  XL,  13  seq.;  Walt.,  37,  31  seq.;  Hertz,  Tr.,  p.  536. 


4. 

Tecum  vivere  amem,   tectiui   obeum  libens. 

0  lady  fair,  let  us  together   go : 

Come   let   us   share   both  happiness   and  woe ! 

1  grudge  thee  any   lover  worse  than   I, 
But  I  will  love  thee  true  until  I  die. 

5. 

Night  Thoughts. 

"When  in  my  night-dress  all  alone 

I  think  of  thee,  my  knight,  my  own, 

My  colour  glows  as  on  the  thorn  the  rose, 

And  mournful  sad  the  heart  within  me  grows/' 

6. 

Lo,  how  the  yellow  planet  hides  him  now! 
So,  sweetheart,  when  thoti  see'st  me,  do  thou. 
On  to  some  other  knight  let  thine  eyes  go, 
And  how  it  stands  with  thee  and  me  no  man  shall  know. 

7. 

Cowardice  undoes  a  lover. 

Lady,  I  stood  before  thy  bed  at  deep 
Of  night,  and   dared  not  wake  thee   from   thy   sleep. 
—  "Perdition  take  thee  for  thy  coward  care ! 
Wast  thou  afeard  I  was  a  ruthless  bear?" 

8. 

"If  you  should  ask  me  why  I  repine, 

What  I  most  longed  for  could  not  be  mine;1 

And  never  shall  be,  in  my  despite  — 

I  mean  not  gold  or  silver,  it  looketh  like  a  knight. 

I  trained  me  a  falcon  a  year  and  a  day, 

Till  I  had  tamed  him  to  my  own  way; 

And  when  I  had  bound  him  with  golden  bands, 

He  soared  so  high  above  me  and  flew  to  other  lands. 

i)  Cf.  Chaucer:  "My  peyne  is  this,  that  what  I  so  desire, 
That  have  I  not,  ne  no  thing  like  thereto; 
And  ever  set  desire  my  heart  on  fire." 
Shakespeare:  "I  sigh  the  lack  of  many  a  thing  I  sought." 


12        

Since  I  have  marked  him  flying  so  bold, 

All  his  bright  feathers  set  in  red  gold, 

And  silken  jesses1   hung  on  his  feet. 

God  send  them  all  together  that  long  in  love  to  meet!" 

9. 

"Tears  well  from  my  heart  into  my  eyes; 

I  and  my  truelove  are  parted  by  lies. 

May  God  requite  them,  these  evil  men ! 

Whoever  reconciled  us  would  make  me  glad  again.'' 

10. 

Le  soir,  es  creniaus. 

"As  I  leaned  upon  my  turrets  in  the  summer  cool  of  night, 
A  minstrel  sang  so  sweetly  that  all  the  dark  was  bright. 
In  the  melody  of  Kiirenberg  among  the  crowd  sang  he! 
That  knight  shall  flee  the  country,  or  I  will  enjoy  his  fair  body." 

Ho !     Bring  me  hither  quickly  my  harness  and  my  steed ! 

For  the  sake  of  a  noble  lady  I  must  leave  the  land  with  speed. 

And  would  she  fain  constrain  me  her  leman  for  to  be  ? 2 

She  may  lie  and  sigh  for  ever,  but  she  will1  never  be  loved  by  me. 

11. 

Ne  marcescant  lilia. 

The  fairest  lady  goeth  yet  a  maid. 
I  sent  my  dear  page,  being  myself  afraid 
For  her  young  sake  to  see  her.     I  cannot  tell 
If  she  love  me,  but  know  I  love  her  well. 

12. 

A  love -adept. 

Women  and  birds  to  tame  needeth  small  skill : 
Lure  them  aright  and  they  follow  your  will. 
So  a  fair  knight  wooed  a  lady  with  art: 
Which  when  I  think  on,  swelleth  my  heart. 

1)  See  E.  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p.  88. 

2)  MacCallum  translates:  "•Forthwith  she  drives  me  from  her  because  I  love 
her   well."!     Jeanroi  translates  1.  4:  "11  doit  quitter  le  pays  et  je  me  souviendrai  de 
lui"!  (p.  282). 


—      13     — 

III.   Sir  Dietm&r  von  Aist. 

1. 

"O  what  relieves  the  yearning  for  the  man  you  love  the  best? 
My  heart  were  fain  to  know  it,  since  it  is  sore  oppressed. 
Myself  would  find  a  means  to  ease  the  longing  in  the  way  I  please, 

but  for  the  spies ! 
But  unforgotten  ever  near,  safe  in  my  heart  he  lies !" 

—  They  say  a  woman's  comfort  is  to  be  true  as  gold. 
—  "Now  this  I  cannot  credit,  since  I  am  unconsoled." 
(So  were   two   lovers   speaking   low,   when   one    would   from   the 

other  go).     "Love,  woe   is  me! 
Mcthinks  they  are  the  wisest  who  have  no  need  of  thee." 

2. 

Thou  reaves  me  roiff  and  rest. 

When  all  the  world  is   sleeping,   sleep  cometh  not  to  me, 

And  all  of  a  fair  lady  whose  love  I  long  to  be; 

In  whom  my  only  pleasure  lies  —  what  counsel  can  I  e'er  devise? 

I  pine  away. 
Why  does  God  let  her  be  to  me  this  torment  night  and  day? 

3. 

Envoy  to  the   dame  for  whom  I  yearn, 
Bid  my  beloved  know: 

Since  far  from  her  so  long  I  must  sojourn, 
Boundless  is  my  heart's  woe. 
Her  love  to  me   it  is  a  dearer  thingj 
Than   all  the   singing  of  the  birds   in   spring; 
And,  if  with  her  I  cannot  be, 
There  is  no  pleasure  in  the  world  for  me. 

"Say,  envoy,  to  my  lord  the  noble  knight, 
To  guard  his  body  well: 
To  let  his  mind  rejoice  in  fate's  despite, 
And  not  on  sorrow  dwell. 
I  pay  his  love  suspected  oft  full  dear, 
Full  often  is  my  heart  a  prey  to  fear: 
I  see  him  not,  and  suffer  pain, 
Which  fain  were  I  to  his  dear  self  to  plain." 


—      14     — 

4. 

The  smalle  birdes  singen  clear. 

Oho !     Now  comes  to  us  the  time 

Of  the  wild  birds'  song. 

The  leaves  are  greening  of  the  spreading  lime, 

Broken  is  the  strength  of  winter  long. 

Now  sweetly  fashioned  flowers  are  springing, 

And  practising  their  beauty  on  the  leas : 

To  many  a  heart  old  pleasures  bringing; 

And  mine  is  comforted  with  flowers  and  trees. 

5. 

A  bird  was  singing  on  the  linden  tree, 
Filling  the  fields  with  music  by  the  wood; 
My  heart  was  lifted,  and  did  long  to  be 
In  the  old  hollow  where  the  rose-bush  stood : 
Its  wilding  blossoms  I  again  could  see, 
Many  and  fragrant  clustered  on  the  brier, 
As  are  my  thoughts  of  her  I  most  admire. 

"It  seems  indeed  a  thousand  years  ago, 
Since  in  the  arms  of  my  dear  love  I  lay ; 
And  not  for  any  fault  of  mine  I  know 
He  has  been  strange  to  me  this  many  a  day; 
But  since  I  heed  not  if  birds  sing  or  no, 
And  since  the  flowers  for  me  have  had  no  sheen, 
Short  has  my  pleasure,  long  my  sorrow  been."  x 

6. 

Die  Sehnsucht  schaufelt  sein  friihes  Grab. 

Thoughts   are  free  ; 2 

No  one  in  the  world  can  turn  them ; 

Yet  must  yearning  often  be 

With  them,  in  the  heart  to  burn  them. 

Love's  enjoyment  ruled  me  so, 

I  with  happiness  was  sated: 

Bitter  slow  the  days  will  go 

Now  we  shall  be  separated. 

1)  Cf.  Shakespeare's  son.  How  like  a  winter  hath  my  absence  been. 

2)  Cf.  LD,   XXXIV,    164;  Wilmanns'  note  to  Walt.  37,  14;  38,  23;  Freid. 
101,  6;   122,  17;  E.  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p.  109. 


15      — 

Parting  is  intolerable  grief : 
Say  my  life  was  very  brief, 
Ruined  in  a  youth  ill-fated. 

7. 

A  la  fenestra  de  la  plus  auta  tor. 

A  lady  stood  on  the  turret-stone 

Looking  away  o'er  the  moorlands  lone, 

If  that  her  love  were  riding  there. 

She  saw  a  falcon  in  the  air : 

"O  happy  falcon  flying  free, 

Flying  where  thy  heart  would  be ! 

In  all  the  wood  one  single  tree 

Thou  choosest   to   be   dear  to   thee.1 

And  so  chose  I. 

My  eyes  have  singled  out  a  knight; 

Now  other  ladies  in  their  spite 

Are  envious/  and  spy. 

Why  will  they  plot  against  my  happiness? 

I  grudge  them  not  the  men  their  arms  caress." 

8. 

"Woe  to  thee,  O  summer  glad! 
The  birds  are  silent  grown, 
And  the  leaves  of  the  linden  are  strewn. 
Mine  eyes  that  see  so  well  now  make  me  sad 
With  vision  of  the  happy  season's  dying. 
Mine  own  knight,  be  thou  not  sighing 
For  other  dames !     Remember,  sweet, 
I  deemed  thee  fashioned  in  man's  loveliest  mould, 
And  loved  thee  from  the  hour  we  first  did  meet" 

9, 

Ut  vaga  ratis  per  aequora. 

I  have  achieved  the  object  that  my  heart  has  struggled  for 
A  noble  dame  has  taken  me  to  be  her  servitor. 
And  I  obey  her,  as  a  ship 
Answers  to  the  helmsman's  grip, 

i)  Cf.  Osw.  96,  55  seq.  2)  Cf.  MF.  13,  27,  29. 


—      16     — 

When  the  angry  wave  has  ceased  to  roj] 

Heigh  ho! 

She  stills   the  turmoil  of  my   soul.1 

10. 


"Love,  sleepest  thou? 

And  hearest  not  the  bird  upon  the  bough? 
The  pretty  thing  does  twitter:  "Time 
For  parting"  from  the  branches  of  the  lime. 

From  sleep  so  deep 

That  thou  shouldst  rouse  me,  child,  at  dawn's  first  peep!  — 
Joy  must  be  yoked  with  sorrow  all  the  way, 
And  whatsoe'er  thou  biddest  I  obey. 

(She  made  her  moan). 
"Thou  ridest,  love,  and  leavest  me  alone. 
And  when  wilt  thou  come  back  again  to  me? 
My  joy  upon  thy  saddle  rides  with  thee"  2 

11. 

Furlough  gat  the  summer  shining: 

Let  him  rest  with  all  his  flowers. 

Now  for  all  the  long  repining 

Since  I  wove  in  wildwood  bowers 

Fostered  blossoms  of  the  spring's  first  showers, 

Winter's  nights  shall  all  indemnify, 

When  by  love  so  long  I   lie.3 

12. 

O  lady,  long  have  I  been  fain 
To  set  my  love  on  thee, 
And  made  good  use  of  all  I  was: 
Thou  hast  ennobled  me.4 

1)  Cf.  Petrarch,  Son.  156. 

2)  The  oldest  day-song  in  the  Minnesong.    Besides  the  balcony  scene  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet,   we  have  in  English   literature  perfect   Day-songs   in   Carew's   "Pastoral 
Dialogue",  "This  mossy  bank  they  press'd",  and  Donne's  (?  Dowland's)  "Break  of  Day". 

3)  Cf.  Walt.,  65,  13—14;  MF,  16,  15  seq.;  216,  i  seq.;  Schmidt,  Reinm.  p.  93. 

4)  7[a&ij(j.aTa  [4.(t&ij{AttTtt.      Cf.   Charles   Cotton  To   Chloris:   "Improved   in 
merit,   for  thy  sake".     The  underlying  idea  of  the   Minnedienst.     The  Margrave   of 
Brandenburg:  "Worthless  is  aloveless  man".  Walt.,  i  ,  3—4;  68,  14;  71,  33  —  40;  Walt., 
Paul,     i,  4;     6,    24,    34,   37—40;     2°,    21,    39  seq.;     MF,   94,    14;    Freid.   100, 
18—19.     "Better  to  have  loved   and   lost"  Walt.,  69,  39  —  40.    Matz.  p.  155,  255. 


—     17     — 


May  all  that  I  from  thee  have  won 
To  my  advantage  tell; 
And  if  it  ends  as  it  begun, 
You  have  done  all  things  well.1 


IV.  Spervogel  I. 

l. 

"A  house  of  your  own",  the  hedgehog  said, 
"Is  an  excellent  thing  above  your  head." 
Build  a  house  where  you  are  master 
Of  the  thatch  and  tiles  and  plaster. 
Miserly  the  rich  are  grown.2 

Many  a  thing  you'll  do  without  if  you  haven't  a  house  of 
your  own. 


Be  it  shine,  or  be  it  shower, 

The  guest  must  be  up  at  an  early  hour. 

While  mine  host  sits  snug  and  warm, 

The  guest  fares  forth  in  the  pelting  storm. 

To  play  "mine  host"  when  your  hair  is  grey, 

You  must  save  your  money,  young  man,  to-day.3 

3. 

Renard,   repenting   his    evil    deeds, 

Entered  a  cloister  to  say  his  beads. 

But  when  they  gave  him  the  flocks  to  tend, 

His  piety  came  to  a  sudden  end. 

He  worried  lamb,  and  ram,  and  hog  — 

And  swore  it  was  the  priests'  black  dog. 

4. 

Two  dogs  quarrelled  about  a  bone: 
One  did  nothing  but  snarl  and  groan: 
Did  his  snarling  help  the  whelp? 

1)  Cf.  MF,   144,  31   seq.;  H.  v.  M.,  p.  198. 

2)  Cf.  Walt.   51,   176. 

3)  H.  v.  M.,  XVII,  55. 

Bithell,  The  Minnesingers.     I.  2 


—      i8 

—  The  other  simply  let  him  yelp ; 

Clawed  it, 

Bore  it  from  the  table  to  the  door, 

And  stood  before  his  face  and  gnawed  it.1 

5. 

Patience  is  all  very  well  in  a  man, 

But  people  will  tread  you  down  if  they  can. 

Put  your  back  against  the  wall  and  fight! 

Two  dogs  quarrelled  about  a  bone,  but  the  plucky  one 

got  it  all  right/' 

6. 

There  is  in  heaven  a  palace,  where 
You  enter  by  a  golden  stair. 
The  columns  are  of  marble,  which 
God  hangs  with  garlands  of  jewels  rich. 
But  there  is  none  may  enter  there 
Who  is  not  stainless  washed  of  his  sins'  pitch. 

7. 

How  call  the  fool 

Who  saves 3  his  own  wife  and  a  harlot  follows  ? 
A  swine  that  leaves  the  fountain  clear,  and  wallows 
In  the  muddy  pool. 

8. 

What's  bred  in  the  bone. 

A  clever  fellow  with  a  wolf  begins 
A  game  of  chess.     The  stakes  for  him  who  wins. 
The  wolf  was  as  his  father  once  had  been, 
And  when  a  ram  came  sauntering  on  the  scene, 
Said  "damn!",  and  for  a  pawn  let  go  the  Queen. 

1)  Cf.  Freid.  138,   13  —  14. 

2)  Cf.  Logau:  Patience  to  be  sure  has  some  good  points, 

May  be  hard  though  on  the  joints: 
And  he  who  lets  himself  be  beaten, 
May  be  eaten. 
Also  Walt,   ii,   13  —  14. 

3)  Freid.   105,  2;  H.  v.  M.,  XXVIII,  117—118. 


—      19      — 

V.  Sir  Meinloh  von  Sevelingen. 

l. 

Whenas  I  heard  them  praising  thee  1  longed  to  be  thy  friend,1 
And  for  thy  virtue's  sake  I  sought  and  found  thee  in  the  end: 
Yet  now  that  we  have  met  indeed  thou  art   no  worse  to  me; 
And,  noble  lady,  nobler  is  who  may  be  dear  to  thee. 
One  of  the  best  of  all 2  art  thou,  and  blessed  are  thine  eyes : 
On  whom  they  will  they  may  repose  like  sunshine    of    the    skies. 

2. 

One  offers  thee  his  service  to  whom  thou  dearer  art 

Than  life  itself.     Thou  dravest  all  others  from  his  heart, 

And  didst  not  leave   remaining  a  thought  that  is  not  thine : 

So  now  in  thy  great  goodness  condemn  him  not  to  pine ! 

Thou  hast  transformed  his  habits,  and  warped  his  judgment  so, 

That  for  the  sake  of  thee 

Joy  unalloyed  he  hath  bartered  for  bitter  grief  and  woe. 

3. 

Quod  agis,  age  tenebris. 

He  who  serveth  noble  ladies  must  in  all  his  deeds  take  care. 
Lest  they  suffer  by  his  baseness,  he  his  burning  love  must  bear 
In  his  bosom  for  a  casket,  like  a  jewel  to  be  seen 
But  of  her  whose  eyes  it  gladdens,  and  whose  eyes  enhance  its  sheen. 
He  that  serves  a  noble  lady  nobly  is  of  noble  guerdon  sure : 
Heart  unchaste  did  never  truly  love  a  lady  good  and  pure. 

4. 

Call  it  not  love  that  woos  a  lady  long: 
For  envious  hearts  discover  and  work  wrong. 
Love  grows  uncertain  from  uncertainty: 
It  should  be  pressed  and  sped  ere  spies  avail, 
And  they  with  cunning  foiled  who  so  assail. 
Many  were  blest  in  this  wise,  more  shall  be. 

5. 

It  is  as  it  should  be,  I  live  in  pride, 

What  though  my  thoughts  in  clouded   currents  glide? 

1)  See  Waldb.,  p.  144. 

2)  Cf.  MF,   155,  32;  Freid.  100,   17. 


20        

And  who  shall  ever  light  their  course,  save  one 

To  me  as  dear  as  life,  of  noblest  ways, 

Fitted  to  be  the  theme  of  all  men's  praise? 

Perfect  indeed  is  she,, 

And  every  day  I  chance  her  face  to  see, 

Is  ever  after  sacred  unto  me. 

6. 

Ich  dien. 

I  love  a  noble  lady,  the  reason  why  is  clear; 

And  ever  since  I  'gan  to  serve  she  groweth  yet  more  dear: 

And  still  as  more  I  love  her  the  lovelier  she  grows, 

Crowned  with  a  richer  beauty  than  is  the  queenly   rose. 

And  if  for  her  sweet  sake  I  died,  but  came  to  life  again, 

A  second  time  my  sighs  would  rise  deep  with  the  olden  pain.1 

7. 

Mine  heart  is  lent  upon  sae  goodly  wicht. 

"Mine  eyes  have  chosen  me  from  out  the  throng 

A  fairer  youth  it  seemed  than  all  the  rest: 

And  therefore  other  ladies  envy  me, 

Although  I  have  not  done  them  other  wrong 

Than  that  I  have  deserved  to  please  him  best, 

As  still  to  please  him  best  my  aim  shall  be. 

But  whatsoever  lady  was  his  love  before, 

And  lost  him  for  good  cause, 

If  I  should  see  her  all  forlorn  I  would  not  chide  her  sore." 

8. 

Harbingers  of  summer  I  have  seen  - 

Red,  red  flowers  2  among  the  sprouting  green. 

1)  Cf.  Ctement  Marot: 

"I  am  not  now  what  I  have  been, 

And  never  shall  be  more. 

My  summer  jumped  through  the  window  clean, 

As  my  spring  had  done  before. 

Thou  hast  been  my  master,  Love, 

All  the  other  gods  above. 

O  if  I  could  be  born  again, 

How  much  better  I'd  serve  thee  then!" 

2)  Cf.  MF,   183,  34.      What   these  red  flowers  were  which  the  Minnesingers 
saw  in  Spring,  it  is  for  a  botanist  to  decide.     V.  Schonbach,  Die  alter  en  Minne- 


21         

Fair  chatelaine,  what  offers  thee  a   knight?  — 
To  be  thy  secret  thrall  were  life's  delight. 
His  heart  is  cold  with  winter  all  the  days 
Since  he  from  thee  has  banished  been: 
O  warm  it  now  against  the  coming  rays 
Of  summer  x  -  -  numbed  it  lies  with  pain 
Till  sweetly  on  thy  bosom  it  have  lain. 

9. 

Dissipat  curas  edaces. 

"I  have  heard  good  tidings,  joy  again  I.  know: 

He  is  home   returned,  who  dispels  my  woe. 

Now  farewell  O  sorrow,  get  thee  gone  from  me! 

As  his  worth  deserveth,  I  will  faithful  be. 

Youth  beloved,  closely  I'll  lay  thee  by  my  side  — 

Thou  that  in  love's  service  art  approved  and  tried." 

10. 

Debonair  and  lovely,  good  and  noble  too, 
One  I  know  whom  graceth  all  she  e'er  may  do. 
Not  for  this  I  vaunt  it  that,  as  fortune  gave, 
Converse  I  had  with  her  secret  as  the  grave: 
But  that  my  clear  vision  is  with  truth  acquaint, 
She  is  comely,  virtuous,  cheerful  with   restraint. 
Ne'er  was  fairer  body  known  beneath  the  sun; 
And  I  will  endeavour 
To  achieve  whatever  she  desireth  done. 


VI.   The  Bin-grave  of  Ratisbon. 

l. 

"Me  do  vassal  vows  unite 

In  service,  and  in  love  enlace, 

Unto  a  very  perfect  knight, 


singer,    on   this   passage.      The   prevailing   epithet   in    the    C.  B.    is   purpureus;  cf. 
Sir  Hy.  Wotton,  Elizabeth  of  Bohemia:    "Ye   violets   that  first  appear,  By  your 
pure   purple   mantles   known";  Lycidas,  1.  141:    "Purple  all  the  ground  with  vernal 
flowers."     But  purple  also  means  red. 
i)  Cf.  Walt,  3,  33-34- 


Who   soothes   my  heart   with   his   embrace.1 
And  he  in  whom  such  virtues  lie, 
And  do  to  all  the  world  endear  him, 
Well  may  his  noble  heart  beat  high."  2 

2. 

''They  shall  not  rob  me  of  my  lord, 
Who  long  ago  made  firm  his  might 
Upon  me,  and,  for  my  reward, 
Makes  me  the   mate   of  dear  delight. 
Yea,  though  they  lay  before  me  cold 
And  dead  with  hate,  my  love  should  live. 
Their  envy  has  on  me  no  hold." 

3. 

What  sweets  in  stolen  embraces  dwell! 
''To  shun  my  knight  I  now  am  bidden : 
I  cannot  shun  him,  come  what  may. 
I  must  remember  I  was  hidden 
Sweet  in  his  arms  and  warmly  lay. 
Sorrow,  sorrow  racks  my  brain : 
Parting  rends  my  heart  in  twain : 
My  heart  is  conscious  of  its  pain." 


VII.  The  Burgrave  of  Rietenburg. 

l. 

Now  the  nightingale  is  sated, 
And  the  song  I  heard  elated 
Sinks  and  dies. 

But  within  my  heart  there  lies 
Good  hope  of  a  lady's  favour. 
I  to  be  her  vassal  crave  her, 
Which  if  she  vouchsafe  to  grant, 
I  will  ne'er  to  her  be  recreant 3 


1)  Cf.  CB,  140,  a. 

2)  The  construction  of  the  last  three  lines  is  common  in  the  Minnesong,   and 
I  hope   I  may  be  permitted  to  imitate  it.     Carew  has  it  in  He  that  loves  a  rosy 
cheek.  3)  Matz.,  p.  160. 


—     23     — 
2. 

The  scorn  that  crazed  his  brain. 

Awhile  agone  I  heard  the  story 

That  is  my  comfort  yet : 

Love,  they   told   me,   is  delight  and  glory, 

And  never  bred  regret. 

Then  no  longer  I  would  fret, 

If  she  my  love  no  more  would  flout. 

God  knows  that  I  can  do  without 

All  ladies,   save 

The  one  whose  lovely  body  drave 

My  love-sick  fancy  long  ago  to  rave.1 

3. 

Uror. 

Since  she  thinks  to  test  me,  I 
Will  submit   to   her   desire.2 
I  shall  be  as  gold  you  try, 
Purging  it  of  dross  by  fire. 
Gold  improves  by  being  tried, 
And  is  clearer,  fairer,  purified: 
All  the  more  the  furnace  glows, 
Nobler   yet  the   metal  grows. 


VIII.   Sir  Heinrich  von  Veldeke. 

"How  well  von  Veldeke  He  grafted  the  first  twig  In  German  speech  with 

Of  love  sang  he  !  Whence  grew  those  branches  big  clustered  flowers" 

Gottfried  von  Straskburg. 

1. 

Shall  I  tell  you  whom  I  love? 

Who  injures  me  in  my  love's  eyes, 

I  wish  for  him 3  the  hempen  bands 

By  which  a  vile  thief  dies. 
Who  praises  me  in  friendly  wise 

1)  "Omnis  amans  amens".     Cf.  MF,  135,  16;  142,  3;   162,  30;   Walt.,  29,  4; 
69>  36;  39,   13;  H.  v.  M.,  Ill,  83;  V,  15;  XVIII,  47;  E.  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p.  88. 

2)  Cf.  H.  v.  M.  I,  86,  89. 

3)  The  asterisks  represent  a  rhetorical  pause,  or  rather  musical  device. 


To   her,  I  wish  him  Paradise, 
And  fold  to  him  my  hands.1 
Should  any  ask  who  she  may  be, 
He  shall  know  her  by  this  sign : 2 
There  is  none  more  fair  than  she. 
Succour  me,  O  lady  mine! 
I  do  not  grudge  the  sun  to  thee, 
If  for  me  the  moon  but  shine.3 

2. 

v  Queen  Iseult  to  Tristan  owed 

Not  a  jot  for  his  devotion: 
Less  of  heart's  deep  love  he  showed 
Than  the  nature  of  the  potion. 
Me  my  lady  well  may  thank: 
Spiced  wine  I  never  drank, 
Yet  I  love  more  deep  than  he, 
If  that  may  be. 
Lady  sweet,  without  deceit, 
Let  me  be  thine  and  be  thou  mine. 

3. 

Since  the  sun  withdrew  his  rays, 

As  the  winds  were  coldly  blowing, 

And  the  birds  their  merry  lays 

Hushed,  as  numb  their  wings  were  growing, 

Dreary  is  the  heart  of  me, 

For  the  winter  now  must  be, 

That  to  us  his  might  is  showing 

On  the  flowers  the  eye  perceives 

Lowly  lying,  pale  and  dying 

In  fallen  leaves. 

1)  i.  e.,   as   a  token   of  homage:   the  vassal  folded  his  hands,   over  which  the 
feudal  lord  then  laid  his.     Cf.  LD,  XXXIII,  83;  Hertz,  Tr.,  p.  517. 

2)  Cf.  poem  by  Wm  Browne,  which  begins  with  the  title  I  have  taken.    The 
Minnesinger  'was  compelled   to  observe  strict  anonymity  in  his  references  to  his  lady. 
Cf.  Walt.,  Pf.,  35,  25 —  26.     Walther,  in  translation   17,  archly  identifies  himself  with 
the  Walther  who  loved  Hildegunde  in  the  epic  poem.    Cf.  "rig  <Ff ,  xai  tfs,  xal 

—  i)   O«6f  olff  ftovT]"  (Greek  Anthology). 

3)  Cf.  Freidank  117,   8  —  9.     MF,   124,  36  —  37. 


L  2  C         r 

4. 

He  that  has  the  wit  to  be 

Love's  true  vassal,  love  to  gain, 

Blessed  for  love's  sake  is  he, 

In  despite  of  all  his  pain. 

All  good  things   from  love  have  we : 

Love  from  low  desires  sets  free  — 

Why  should  I  from  love  refrain? 

I  am  true  to  her  as  steel: 
Well  I  know  she  is  my  owrn ; 
If  my  heart  could  falsely  deal, 
True  love  never  will  be  known. 
Thanks  to  her  for  all  I  feel, 
Love  shall  music  still  reveal; 
Love  seems  hard  to  fools  alone. 

5.1 

Arida  canities  pellens  lascivos  amores. 

All  people  swear  - 

And  it  is  true  —  that  women  ne'er 

Come  to  love  a  man's  gray  hair. 

'Tis  hard  to  bear, 

And  hard  to  credit: 

But  women  do  in  sober  truth 

Choose  rather  an  untutored  youth 

Than  a  wise  man  like  me  —  though  I  have  said  it. 

Nor  more  nor  less 

Than  I  am  grey  —  which  I  confess  — 
I  hate  in  women  foolishness: 
When  they  profess, 
Because  it  glistens, 
New  tin  is  gold!     They  love  a  lad 
Because  he  can  be  sooner  had, 
That's   my  belief  —  to  whom   no   woman   listens. 

6. 
What  if  April's  2  chill  ?  tender  flowers  are  springing 

Dressed  are  beech  and  lime  in  a  green  unweathered. 

1)  Walt.,  12,  27—28;  48,  1—8;  Osw.  93,  19—24;   CB,  48,  2;  59,  i;  60,  2. 
A  gray  beard  is  praised  MF  21,  32.    See  E.  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p  89;  H.  v.  M.  p.  269. 

2)  April,  "mensiscithereius",  instead  of  May,  is  a  clear  proof  of  Proven9al  influence. 


—        26        — 

Hark  with  gush  and  trill  how  the  woods  are  ringing! 

Wild  at  pairing-time  all  the  wooers  feathered 

Love  relate,  each  to  his  mate, 

Stirring  me  with  rapture  great. 
All  the  weary  winter  they  were  still. 

Soon  as  in  these  days  they  discovered  breaking 

Buds   the    leaves    among  they  were  mad  with  pleasure; 

All  their  merry  lays  now  are  re-awaking! 

Many  a  dear  old  song  and  familiar  measure, 

Sweet  and  clear,  charms  my  ear, 

Making  me  of  such  good  cheer, 
I  with  them  must  sing  the  season's  praise. 
Could  I  but  achieve  that  in  secret  session 

I  might  plead  my  case  to  my  lady's  beauty, 

She  would  grant  reprieve  for  my  bold  transgression, 

And  commute  in  grace  death  to  life-long  duty 

As  her  slave  till  the   grave! 

For  the  wrath  of  God  they  brave 
Who  the  world  before  his  summons  leave. 


7. 

Lenis  spirat  ventus. 

Lovely  summer  now  is  nigh: 
Thence  are  all  the  birds  rejoicing; 
To  the  May's  young  face  they  vie 
In  the  welcome  they  are  voicing. 
Let  the  eagle  beckon  1  now 


i)  The  wind  as  a  winged  deily:  Cf.  Vafhrufmismal  36,  37: 
Odin  said:  "Whence  comes  the  wind 
That  wafts  o'er  the  wave? 
Himself  men  see  not." 
Vafpruhner  said:  "Hraesvelgr  bight  he, 
Sits  at  heaven's  margin 
Giant  in  eagle's  garb. 
Men  from  his  wings 
Say  the  wind  cometh 
All  mortals  over." 

Schiller's  " Spaziergang ",  line  183.  See  SchSnbach's  essay  "Der  Windadler 
Heinrichs  von  Veldecke"  (Festgabe  fur  Franz  von  Krones  1895):  do.  l<  B.  zur  E.  altd. 
Dichtwerke",  I,  p.  71.  Figures  of  eagles  were  often  used  as  weather-cocks. 


—     27 

To  the  breezes  sweetly  blowing! 

On  the  linden's  blackened  bough 

I  have  seen  the  green  buds  showing. 


IX.   Sir  Friedrich  von  Hausen. 
l. 

Aux  Lombardes  campaignes. 
If  again  my  native  skies 
E'er  I  see,  a  soldier  blameless, 
Where  my  only  pleasure  lies 
With  a  lady  who  to  you  is  nameless, 
Man  or  woman  nevermore 
Shall  behold  me  as  before 
Deep  immersed  in  sorrow  aimless. 
Many  a  thing  which  grieved  me  there 
Seemeth  here  so  good  and  fair. 

Far  away  she  seemed  to  be, 
Where  she  now  would  seem  so  near  me, 
Bitter  is  this  strange  country 
Now,  and  will  be  more,  I  fear  me. 
Needs  my  faithful  heart  must  pine. 
Were  I  now  about  the  Rhine,1 
Haply  there  the   news   would  cheer  me 
That  I  never  heard  since  I 
Came  across  the  mountains  high. 

2. 

My  doting  time  is  past. 

She  cannot  lay  it  at  my  door 

That  e'er  my  heart  his  Queen  -   forswore ; 

The  signs  of  her  dominion  she 

Might  mark  on  me : 

So  dim  was  all  else  in  my  head, 

I  have  to  folks  "good  morrow"  said 

At  night; 

1)  Cf.  LD,  XVII,  33;  XXVI,  34;  XXVII,  8. 

2)  MF  141,  7;  Walt.,  22,  48;  26,  6;  29,  21;  LD,  XLIII,  107,  145;  LXIV, 
20;  XCVIII,  87,   160;  CB,   I24a,  5;  H.  v.  Mont,   i,  45. 


Yea,  so  in  bondage  was  my  sprite, 

That  I  at  times  remembered  not, 

And  understood  a   greeting  not  a   jot.1 

She  suffered  me  to  be  her  slave,2 
But  no  reward  she  ever  gave. 
I  do  not  breathe  a  word  unkind, 
But  that  her  mind 
Too  little  generous  hath  shown. 
I  thought  that  all  mine  ills  were  flown 
When  I  surrendered 
My  freedom,  and  my  service  tendered 
On  hope  of  favour  insecure ! 
Now  Him  I  serve  whose  recompense  is  sure. 

I  came  from  love  in  great  distress, 
Yet  did  I  never  love  possess; 
And  thence  the  sorrow  manifold 
Can  not  be  told. 

Not  that  I  speak  a  word  of  blame 
To  her,  or  any  other  dame: 
But  this  was  wrong  — 
That  I  forgot  my  God  so  long:3 
Which  most  I  mourn;  but  now  my  mind 
Shall  be  to  serve  my  Saviour  inclined. 

3. 

My  heart  and  body  now  are  each  upbraiding  * 
The  other,  swearing  they  will  part  and  go. 
My  body  would  be  fain  to  go  crusading: 
My  heart  unto  a  lady  clingeth  so 
That  I  am  hard  perplexed,  and  do  not  know 
How  to  be  friends  again  I  shall  beguile  them. 
Sure   only  God   himself  can   reconcile  them. 
It  is  my  eyes  have  made  them  foe  and  foe. 

Fondly  I  hoped  this  trouble  all  would  quit  me, 
When  the  red  cross  was  on  my  shoulder  dyed : 
And  that  it  should  be  so  would  only  fit  be, 

1)  Cf.  Walt.,  38,  25  —  33;  Pf.,  35,  12. 

2)  Walt.,  6,  4—5;  XVIII,  32;  Matz.,  p.  104. 

3)  Cf.  MF  136, 23  :  "If  I  had  served  my  God  with  half  the  zeal  I  served  my  lady"  — 

4)  Cf.  MF  87,   15—16;  215,  30—1;  Walt.,  Pf.,  35,9— 16;  Villon's  poem. 


—     29      — 

But  that  my  constancy's  ill  satisfied. 

And  sure  great  happiness  would  me  betide,, 

If  but  my  heart  would  waive  his  claims  a  little. 

But  well  I  see  he  careth  not  a  tittle 

Though  I   his  tyranny  should  dear  abide. 

Then  cruel  heart,  since  that  I  cannot  bend  thee 
To   let   my  sinful  body   be  reprieved, 
I  pray  to  God  that  he  vouchsafe  to  send  thee 
Unto  a  place  where  thou  be  well  received. 
Alas,  thy  pleading  will  it  be  believed? 
Hast  thou  the  courage  for  this  hard  campaigning? 
And  what  shall  help  thee  conquer  her  disdaining 
Save  the  firm  faith  with  which  to  her  I  cleaved? 

• 

4. 

The  eye  is  traitor  of  the  heart. 

I  had  a  vision  of  a  lady  bright 1 
Through  the  dark  hours  until  the  morning's  light; 
But  woke,  and  lost  her.     Whither  is  she  fled 
Who  soothed  my  sleep  with  joy  can  not  be  said? 
My  traitrous  eyes  it  is  that  cheat  my  mind, 
Repeating  beauties  seen.2     That  I  were  blind! 

5. 

I  often  wonder,  were  my  lady  near  me 

What  I  should  say  to  her :  and  it  beguiles 

My  sorrow  to  imagine  she  can  hear  me, 

For  such  sweet  converse  shortens  all  the  miles. 

Here  o'er  the  sand  my  comrades  see  me  riding, 

And,  seeing  my  bent  face  lit  with  happy  smiles, 

They  deem  me  gay, 

While  o'er  the  swelling  seas  my  heart  is  biding, 

Far  away. 

Yet,  spite,  of  all,  my  grief  is  three  times  greater 
In  Palestine,  that   was   so  great   at   home. 
She  ever  hated  me,  I  cannot  hate  her: 

1)  Cf.  Sir  Thos.  Wyatt's   Sonnet  „  Unstable  dream  — ".     Other  dream  poems 
MF,    145,    10  seq;  LD,  XCVIII,  88;  XC,    17  seq. 

2)  Cf.  Daniel:  " Cease,  dreams,  the  images  of  day-desires,  To  model  forth  the 
passions  of  the  morrow." 


—     30     — 

Hateth  she  still,  now  1  have  crossed  the  foam? 

Howe'er  it  be,  it  boots  not  to  forbid  me 

Convey  her  with  me  wheresoe'er  I   roam : 

Impediment 

Of  which  no  Paynim  sword  can  ever  rid  me 

In  field  or  tent.1 

6. 

Vainly  they  imagine  they  have  checked 
Death,  who  cheat  the  Lord  of  his  crusade : 
As  I  do  shrewdly  in  my  faith  suspect, 
Foolish  is  the  reckoning  they  have  made. 
He  who  takes  the  cross  and  is  afraid 
Of  the  journey,  will  his  fault  detect, 
When  the  gate   is  locked  on  him   dismayed 
That  is  open  to  the   Lord's  elect. 


X.   Sir  Heinrich  von  Rugge. 
1. 

Greetings  where  no  kindness  is. 

To  many  a  man  for  his  greeting  kind 

I  would  gladly  give  a  piece  of  my  mind. 

Flattered  to  your  face,  behind 

Your  back  by  hypocrites  maligned ! 

I  liken  such  to  dogs  whose  blind 

Vicious  fury  village  streets  endangers: 

Whose  delight 

It  is  to  bite 

Passers-by  because  they  are  strangers. 

2. 

He  that  loves  a  rosy  cheek. 
Ask  not  overmuch  for  fair 
Form  and  face:  let  women  be 


i)  Cf.  Anon.  I  (Golden  Treasury  XII)  (perhaps  by  Donne,  v.  Chambers  II,  249): 
"By  absence  this  good  means  I  gain, 

That  I  can  catch  her, 

Where  none  can  watch  her, 
In  some  close  corner  of  my  brain: 

There  I  embrace  and  kiss  her; 

And  so  I  both  enjoy  and  miss  her." 


Good :  beauty  is  but  a  snare : 
Gladly  woo,  if  good  is  she. 
After  the  strewn  leaves  of  roses 
Richer  the  rich  mind  uncloses. 
Boorish  is  he,  and  unwise, 
Who  judges  women  by  the  eyes.1 


XL   Sir  Albrecht  von  Johannsdorf. 
I.2 

Si  Dieu  veult  que  je  revienne. 

I  have  ta'en  the  cross,  the  stern  crusader's  token: 
To  purge  my  sins  to  Palestine  I  fare. 
A  lady's  heart  at  parting  nigh  is   broken  :3 
If  e'er  again  I  breathe  my  native  air, 
God  grant  I  find  her  honour  never  faltered, 
Then  my  dearest  wish  is  mine : 
But  if  her  life  is  altered,4 
God  grant  to  me  a  grave  in  Palestine. 

2. 

The  linden  shade  was  belted  with  a  braid 

Of  motley  flowers   growing  the  grasses   over. 

The  roses  shed  their  petals  white  and  red; 

The  birds  sang  overhead; 

It  was  a  lovely  bed  among  the  clover. 

Fair  stood  the  flowers  in  low  and  serried  ranks : 

And  I  await,  for  guerdon  of  my  serving, 

My  lady's  thanks. 

1)  I  have  read  somewhere   in   the  literature  of  the   period   a   story  of  a  wife 
who  did  not  consider  herself  beautiful  enough  for  her  husband,    and  implored  him  to 
divorce  her,  but  his  ideals  were  not  those  of  the  middle  ages,  and  he  kept  her  for  her 
goodness'  sake.     Cf.  LD,  XIX,   i;seq.;  Walt.,  9,   13  seq. 

2)  Cf.  MF,  211,   20  —  26. 

3)  Cf.  LD,  XXVI,  28. 

4)  See  Schultz,  I,  p.  462:  The  wives  of  the  Norman  knights  who  had  gone  to 
England  with  William  the  Conqueror  summoned   their  husbands  to  come  home,  with 
the  threat  that  they  would  otherwise  take  other  husbands.     Cf.  Tristan,  ed.  Francisque- 
Michel  II,  p.  18:  "Have  you  never  heard  it  said,  Mad  wife  in  an  empty  bed?" 


—     32      — 

O  it  is  long  since  last  I  raised  my  song: 

Sure  it  is  time  the  gathered  clouds  were  rifted ! 
But  how  shall  wake          gladness  in  hearts  that  break? 
And  never  for  my  sake 

My  lady's  heart  did  ache      in  days  that  drifted. 
Then  in  my  breast  no  merry  jest  shall  spring, 
Till   she   herself  declare   her  will   and  summon 
My  laugh  to  ring. 

3.1 

Quaeris  quae  non  invenis. 

To  my  lady's  bower  I  crept 

By  the  watchers  unsuspected.  - 

"Sir,  the  bounds  you  have  o'erstept! 

You  surprise   me  unprotected." 2  — 

"Lady,   now  committed  is   the   sin."  — 

"Tell  me,  Sir,  what  bringeth  you  my  bower  within?" 

—  "Once  again  to  swear  the  truth: 
I  for  love  of  you  am  dying." 

"Out  upon  thee,  foolish  youth ! 

Save  the  effort  of  thy  sighing." 

"You  will  kill  me,  sweet,  if  so  you  gird." 

"Sigh  a  thousand  years  you  never  shall  be  heard." 

—  "And  is  this  my  recompense: 
Chiding  in  such  cruel  fashion?"  — 
"Sir,  you  have  but  little  sense, 
Wantonly  to  stir  my  passion." 

"Mistress,  my  existence  you  have  blighted."  — 
"You're  an  arrant  fool  to  love  me  uninvited." 

—  "Could  I  other  than  adore  you 
When  I  looked  upon  your  beauty?"  — 
"You  insult  me!     I  implore  you 

To  respect  my  wifely  duty." 

"To  insult  you  never  came  in  to  my  mind."  — 

"You  would  boast  of  my  dishonour,  were  I  kind." 

—  "I  am  faithful  and  discreet : 
My  deserts  you  still  have  scanted."  — 
"I  forbid  you  to  entreat 

1)  Cf.  Sir  Thos.  Wyatt's  son.     "The  lover  forsaketh  his  unkind  love".    Weinh. 
I,   260.     Jeanroi  p.    137. 

2)  Cf.  LD,  XIV,  317;  XVIII,   126;  XV,   183. 


—     33     — 

Favours  that  can  ne'er  be  granted."  — 

"Of  love's  long  servitude  is  this  the  fee  ?"  — * 

"Others  may  accord  you  what  you  seek  of  me." 

—  "Then  my  singing  must  remain, 
And  true  service,  unrewarded?"  — 
"Nay,  your  pains  were  not  in  vain: 
Guerdon  good  shall  be  accorded."  — 
"I  entreat  you,  make  your  meaning  plain!" 
"You  are  happier  now  and  nobler  in   the  grain" 

4. 

If  I  saw  one  who  said  from  her  he  came, 

Were  he  my  foe,  I  yet  would  entertain  him. 

Though  he  had  stolen  all  I  e'er  could  claim 

As  mine,  forgiveness  should  his  tidings  gain  him. 

He  that  her  name  to  me  hath  said 

Shall  be  my  friend 

From  year's  end  to  year's  end, 

Though  he  had  burnt  my  castle  o'er  my  head.2 


XII.    Der  von  Kolmas. 

Calcanda  semel  via  leti. 

Morrow  has  followed  morrow,        since  a  child  was  I, 
To  my  heart's  unending  sorrow,       as  the  winds  blow  by, 
Once  only,  and  no  man  can  turn  their  flight; 
And  the  days  spent  in  vain,  and  spoiled  with  strife, 

Can  ne'er  be  lived  again.  This  flickering  life 

Death  snuffs  as  it  were  but  a  candle's  light. 
O  the  dark  deeps  of  death!  How  few  men  think 

That  time  will  push  them  helpless  o'er  the  brink! 
How  recklessly  we  do  the  things  forbidden, 
Although  the  bitter  gall  is  in  the  honey  hidden! 

But  whosoe'er  applieth  all  his  mind  to  gain 

The  life  where  no  man  dieth,          blessed  shall  attain 

1)  Sir  Thos.  Wyatt:    "Grant  me  now  my  hire";  "Disdainful  doubleness  have 
I  for  my  hire";  Wilm.,  Leben  III,  notes  160  and  265.     Cf.  with  this  poem  the  canzone 
by  Aimeric  de  Pegulhan,  Chr.  Prov.,  p.  175. 

2)  Cf.  Neidh.  37,  55. 

Bithell,  The  Minpesingere.     I.  3 


—     34     — 

To  all  his  soul's  desires,  and  they  shall  not  fade. 

And  there  is  purest  pleasure,  love  that  does  not  cloy, 

Nor  any  brain  can  measure  all  that  sum  of  joy 

In   mansions   lovelier   than   our   dreams   e'er   made ; 

For  there  in  perfect  rapture  the  soul  rests, 

No  smoky  house  nor  leaking  roof  molests ; 

Into  the  hoar  of  eld  no  angels   fall : 

There  let  us  go,   if  so   God  will,   who   rtileth  all. 

Then  let  us  make  confession,  and  to  Mary  pray, 

For  Her  sweet  intercession  with  the   God  who  lay 

In  Her  pure  womb  the  miracle  that  wrought. 
In  His   embrace   reposes  His  created   earth: 

And  yet  His  power  encloses  more  than  all   its  girth. 

All  other  wonders  are  to  this  as  naught : 
Christ  Jesus  and  the  Maiden  undefiled, 
She  is  His  Mother  and  is  yet  His  Child: 
Exalted  Virgin,  whom  the   Lord  did  make 
Queen  of  all  earth  and  heaven  for  Her  virtue's  sake. 

Let  us  as  pilgrims  humble  march  to  the  Heavenly   Inn; 

And  if  our  feet  should  stumble       into  traps  of  sin, 
We  will  unloose  the  meshes  by  Christ's  aid. 
We  march  along  the  way  all  men  must  go ; 

And  let  us  not  delay  the  debt  we  owe 

The  Host  for  life  to  save :  it  must  be  paid, 
And  the  hour  is  nigh :  strength  melts  away  like  lead, 
Life's  evening  cometh  and  the  morn  is  fled. 
Let  us  in  time  take  counsel  of  our  state: 
If  we  at  dark  are  debtors  it  will  be  too  late! 


XIII.   Sir  Hartwig  von  Haute. 

Conde  papillas,  conde. 

Never  have  I  my  lady  faced, 

But  felt  it  hard  to  be 

Permitted  not  to  clasp  her  waist, 

And  press  her  close  to  me.1 

To  see  her  breasts  in  damask  rise  — 


i)  CB  61,  2,  "praesens  volo  tangere"  (with  which  cf.  WiJm.,  Leben,  III,  322). 


—     35     — 

Like  a  straining  hound  it  makes  me : 
Scanned  by  a  thousand  pairs  of  eyes, 
When  such  a  madness  overtakes  me 
I  could  not  hold  my  passion  in, 
I  would  kiss  her  cheek  and  chin  — 
If  only  violence  her  love  might  win. 


XIV.   Sir  Bligger  von  Steinach. 

Lascivis  hederis  ambitiosior. 

A  load  of  years  for  sale  cheap!     Who's  for  buying? 
Well  warranted  to  age  you  speedily. 
I  get  no  use  of  them  for  all  my  trying: 
For  one  with  any  prospect  I'd  give  three,1' 
Such  as  they  are :  they  are  too  much  for  me. 
What  boots  on  service  true  to  be  relying, 
If  such  ingratitude  must  be  the  fee? 

If  anything  I  heard  of  more  availing, 
To  heal  the  sorrow  sore  within  my  breast, 
Than  faithful  service,  it  should  cure  my  ailing, 
For  I  would  practice  it  and  never  rest. 
Would  it  avail  me  aught  if  I  confessed: 
In  my  belief  a  love  that  has  no  failing, 
And  shuns  all  other  ladies,  should  be  blest? 

When  absence  shall  again  my  heart  embolden 
To  seek  the  lady  dwelling  by  the  Rhine, 
Were  I  for  any  grace  to  her  beholden 
To  stay  the  bleeding  of  this  heart  of  mine, 
Then  would  she  grow  upon  me  like  the  vine : 
Dear  as  Damascus  to  the  far-famed  Soldan,2 
Sweet  in  my  thoughts  as  sheltered  eglantine. 


XV.  Sir  Heinrich  von  Morungen, 

1. 

Pitiless  glances,  unassuaged  sorrow: 

My  heart  and  body  thence  are  nigh  forlorn; 

r)  Cf.  Walt.,  Pf.,  35,  27—28;  MF  86,  5  seq. 

2)  Saladin  is  mentioned  LD, XVIII,  87;  CB,  XXVI;  Walt.,  50,55;  HMS.3,  14'' 
Soldan,  Osw.   in,  22. 

3* 


-     36     - 

And   I  would   sing  to-day's   complaint   to-morrow, 
But  that  I  fear  unfeeling  mockers'  scorn  i1 
Yet  if  her  praises  these  my  songs  adorn, 
Let  no  man  say  that  alien  words  I  borrow, 
Since  I  for  song's  sake  to  the  world  was  born.2 

She  is  my  heart's  crown,  yea,  though  she  abhorred  me : 
A  crown  with  beauty's  jewels  that  so  blaze 
On  the  Queen  only:  O  would  she  accord  me 
To  be  the  King  of  happy  men  always ! 
All  hearts  are  eager  on  my  love  to  gaze. 
Is  it  not  time,  O  lady,  to  reward  me? 
Lest  there  should  be  some   folly  in   my  praise.3 

When  I  before  her  stand  and  see  the  wonder 
Wrought  by  the  Lord  to  be  her  body  fair, 
Shines  in  the  sky  a  sun,  I  am  thereunder : 
And  fain  were  I  to  be  for  ever  there, 
Since  all  my  soul  is  darkling  otherwhere, 
Whenas  the  clouds  I  cannot  tear  asunder 
With  might  of  yearning,  gloom  the  hateful  air. 

2. 


The  nightingale  1  do  not  follow, 

That  stays  her  singing  when  the  time  for  it  is  o'er : 

I  keep  the  custom  of  the  swallow, 

That  maugre  joy  and  sorrow  singeth  evermore. 

So  now  I  raise  my  strain, 

And  with  good  reason  do  indeed  complain  — 

Woe's  me !  — 

That  e'er  with  song  and  sigh 

I  came  to  crave  a  boon,  where  I 

No  hope  of  grace  and  guerdon  see. 

1)  Cf.  MF  165,   14.    Such  scorn  as  is  perhaps  hinted  at  in  MF  167,  13  —  21: 
"They  ask  how  old  my  lady  is,  whom  I  have  served  so  long."    Ulrich  von  Liechten- 
stein   served  his   lady    13   years   "without  hire."      The  Minnesinger    often    loves  one 
dame    "von   Kindesbeinen    auf."      So    Hausen,    MF  50,   ii;   MF  4,  24;    Morungen 
MF  136,    ii ;    Hartmann    215,    29;    Neidhart,  Haupt  56,   8;    CB  49,  6.      Schmidt, 
Reinm.,  p.  51;   H.  v.  M.,  p.  180;  Michel,  p.  57. 

2)  He  seems  to  mean:  I  was  born  to  love  her,  and  therefore  to  sing  her.    The 
imitation  of  "exegi  monumentum",  so  repulsive  in  the  poets  of  the  Pleiade,   does  not 
once  occur  in  the  Minnesong.     v.  Burdach,  R.  d.  A.  u.  W.  note  8. 

3)  Cf.  Walt.,   72,  20. 


-     37     — 

Should  I  keep  silence,  men  would  say 
That  my  old  singing  habits  better  would  befit  me : 
But  if  I  spake,  and  turned  a  lay, 

I  know  that  for  my  music  they  would  hate  and  twit  me. 
Their  heart  I  cannot  reach 
Who   seek  to  poison  me  with  dulcet  speech. 
Woe's  me! 

That  e'er  they  made  my  song 
Falter,  and  cease  in  silence  long; 
But  as  of  old  it  now  shall  be. 

My  heart  for  its  best  time  is  sighing, 
And  for  so  many  a  glorious  and  rapturous  day 
Lost  in  my  lady's  service  lying: 
And  for  all  the  melodies  in  which  my  yearning  lay, 
Which,  though  she  heard  them  hath, 
Into  her  heart   could  never  find  a  path. 
Woe's  me! 

The  years  I've  lost  in  wooing!1* 
But  I  have  time  enough  for  rueing: 
From  ruth  I  never  shall  be  free. 

Laughter  heard  and  beauty  seen, 
And  a  lady's  noble  manners   have   befooled  me  long. 
How  could  it  otherwise  have  been? 
And  he  who  charges  me  with  fickleness  is  wrong. 
Much  have  I  borne  of  pain, 
And  with  a  woman  never  have  I  lain. 
Woe's  me! 

On  ladies  glad  to  gaze 
Was  I,  and  ever  sang  their  praise : 
But  fated  favoured  not  to  be. 

There  is  no  thing  on  earth  so  dear  — 
The  more  you  hold  it  precious  and  the  more  it  proveth  true  — 
But  sorrow   surely  lurks  anear ; 
Yet  is  he  lost  whose  constancy  is  lined  with  rue. 
This  wisdom  I  observed, 
And  hence  in  my  devotion  never  swerved. 
Woe's  me ! 

i)  Cf.  Sir  Thos.  Wyatt:   "I  me  repent  Of  my  lost  years,  and  of  my  time  mis- 
spent"; Tom  Moore;  MF  175,  31;  Michel,  p.  138. 


-     38     - 

To  me  a  woman  ne'er 

Was  true :  I  am  of  pleasure  bare ! 

But  I  love  on,  howe'er  it  be. 

3. 

Voi  che  per  gli  occhi  miei  passaste  al  core. 
If  I  were  sure  it  would  with  you  remain, 
My  love's  name  I  would  not  mind  your  knowing: 
Whoever  broke  the  heart  of  me  in  twain, 
There  he  would  find  her  image  glowing. 

Mine  eyes  are  whole  that  are  the  door  by  which  she  entered  in :  l 
Cc-uld  I  be  so  conceived  by  her  pure  love  devoid  of  sin! 

If  any  shout  in  a  deaf  forest  long,2 
Echoes  will  answer  him,  his  words  returning: 

i)  Love  enters: 

(a)  "duich  die  ougen".   MF,  124,  39:  LD,LVIII,  15—16:  LIX,  4  —  5:  LXIV 
8  —  9:  LXXXIII,  14:  XCVI,  27;  beautifully  put  MF  176,  38seq.: 
UI  ne-'er  deserved  the  woe 
I  suffer  sorely, 

Save  that  my  heart  controlled  me, 
And  drove  me  oft  to  go 
And  stand  before  thee, 
Bold  to  behold  thee. 
Then  if  I  let  mine  eye 
To  thine  in  secret  fly, 
It  went  out  lightly  and  to  me  returned 
Wounded,  and  for  heaviness  less  fleet. 
Lady,  hath  any  spied  on  its  retreat?" 

MF  194,  22seq:    "Through  my  eyes'  portals  gently  she  came  gliding, 
And  forced  that  narrow  passage  safe  and  well, 
And  made  a  breach  in  my  heart's  citadel, 
Where  now  I  hold  the  noble  dame  in  hiding." 
Petrarch,  son.  3:    "Trovommi  Amor  del  tutto  disarmato 

Et  aperta  la  via  per  gli  occhi  al  core". 

Sir  Thos.  Wyatt  reads  into  his  translation  of  Petrarch's  109^  sonnet  an  i 
of  his  heart  as  a  forest  where  love,  like  a  "stricken  deer"  is  hiding.  Cf.  also  in  hi 
poem  "The  Lover  describeth  his  being  taken  with  Sight  of  his  Love":  "Througl 
mine  eye  the  stroke  from  hers  did  glide  And  down  directly  to  my  heart  it  ran." 

(b)  "durch  die  sele."     MF,   141,  38;   125,  24. 

(c)  "durch  daz  herz."      Walt.,  22,  30.     MF,  144,  24:  a she  can  break  through 
hearts   as  the  sun  breaks  through  glass".     H.  v.  Mont.   2,  20:  "She  shot  with  flame 
of  fire  into  my  heart's  cell".     Margrave  of  Meiszen:  "her  mouth  so  burned  my  hear 
took  fire".      Diez,  p.  139. 

2)  Cf.  Freid.   124,  3 — 4,    and   proverb   "som    man  raaber  i  skoven  faar   man 
svar".     "Wie  man  in  den  Wald  ruft,  schallt  es  zuriick." 


—     39     — 

Now  I  have  plained  to  her  in  many  a  song 

The  anguished  love  she  is  so  coldly  spurning; 

And  others  rang  in  all  rich  rimes  that  their  hearts  too  were  breaking  — 

She  sleepeth  sound  and  hath  forgotten  every  word  on  waking!     ' 

A  parrot,  or  a   starling,  would  by  now 
Have  learned  repeat  the  love-notes  I  have  spoken : 
It  is  so  long  since  I  have  shown  her  how 
Love's  service  is,  and  yet  she  knows  no  token  - 
Nor  will,  unless  God's  miracle  assist  me  in  the  end; 
I  might  as  well  without  an  axe  implore  an  oak  to  bend. 

4. 

Beauty  from  the  ligbt  retired. 

God  ever  bless  my  lady  good  and  bright ! 
Woe  to  the  guarding  of  the  world's  delight, 
Which  hides   from  me  my  love,  whose  beauty  vies 
With  the   unencumbered   sun  in  western   skies.1 

My  soul  is  dark  till  the  long  night  be  gone : 
And  night  it  is  till  her  I  look  upon  — 
Beloved  sun  that  cometh  in  such  state 
No  shade  of  cloud  makes  less  immaculate: 

I  challenge  all  the  low  and  niggard  spies 
Of  women  made  for  rapture  of  men's  eyes, 
To  be  a  glass  where  all  delight  is  shown  — 
What  use  is  buried  gold  no  man  can  own  ?  '2 

'Ware  when  chaste  women  closely  guarded  be ! 
Too  little  liberty   makes  them  too  free.3 
Ladies  should  be  adored  and  rarely  chidden.  — 
I  saw  a  sick  one  quaff  a  drink  forbidden. 

5. 

I  die,  I  faint,  I  fail.4 

Lady,  if  my  life  you  would  preserve, 
Your  eyes'  light  a  little  on  me  shed ! 

il  Cf.  MF,   123,   i;   134,  38;   144,  30;  LD,  XXXII,  64-65. 

2)  Cf.  Horace  ''nullus  argento  color  abdito  terris". 

3)  Cf.  Logau:       "Ohne  Not  wird  sie  bewacht, 

Die  auf  Untreu  nie  gedacht; 

Nur  vergebens  wird  bewacht, 

Die  auf  Untreu  hat  gedacht" 

and  Freid.   101,   5 — 12;  MF,  65,   21  seq.     Wilm.,  Leben,  III,  notes  35,  38. 

4)  Cf.  CB,  51,  2;   102,  6;   104,  2;    166,  2;   i66a;  MF,  141,  6. 


I  can  no  longer  struggle  on:  I  swerve 
With  weariness,  and  I  shall  soon  be  dead, 
Shent  by  a  murderess  1  I  would  not  shun. 
Mine  own  eyes  and  your  mouth  so  red, 
Lady,  this  to  me  have  done. 

O  lady,  let  your  glance  upon  me  glide! 
The  waters  of  my  life  are  ebbing  low. 
One  only  word  from  you  would  turn  the  tide 
With  waves  of  strength  my  soul  to  overflow. 
"No  and  nay,"  and  nothing  else  you  spoke : 
"No  and  nay"  and  "nay  and  no" : 
With  "no  and  nay"  my  heart  is  broke. 

Can  you  not,  but  only  once,  say  "Yes"? 
"Yes  and  yea"  and  "yea  and  yes"? 
Such  a  word  my  heart  would  bless. 

6. 

Nostri  memorem  sepulchre  scalpe  querelam. 

Have  ye  her  beholden 
Who  is  like  the  golden 
Sun  of  dawning  day? 
When  I  see  her  look 
From  her  window  nook  2 
O'er  the  lands  away, 
Then  my  care  departeth: 
But  when  she  is  hidden 
I  am  sorrow-ridden, 
Till  by  her  'tis  bidden 
Flee  away. 

Does  there  one  remain 
Here  among  you  sane, 
Now  that  she  with  fair 
Crowned  3  hair  has  passed  ? 

1)  MF,  147,  4—5;  LD,  XXXIV,   175,  cf.  roubserin  MF,   130,   14. 

2)  uvenster(lin)"  cf.  MF,   138,  37;  LD,  XXXV,  9;  =  diu  glas,  LD,  XXII 
33.     Glass  also   mentioned   LD,   XXXII,    35;   XXI,  859;   MF,  144,  25;    145,   2 
119,    13.      "spiegel"   LD,   XXI,    859;    LXII,    40;   MF,    145,    2;    Freid.  122,  25; 
123,  2.     Wack.,  Kl.  Sch.,  I,  p.  128  seq.;  H.  v.  M.,  p.  250. 

3)  The  original  seems  to  refer  to  a  crown  (not  a  garland) ,  whence  it  has  been 
assumed  that  Morungen's  love  was  of  royal  birth. 


Let  him  follow  fast, 
Summon  her  repair 
Where  for  her  I  fade: 
Else  I  die  to-morrow; 
Ecstasy  and  sorrow 
Rage  my  bosom  thorough, 
Drive  me  to  despair. 

Chisel,  ye  that  love  me, 
On  the  stone  above  me, 
Soon  as  I  am  dead: 
"Passion  him  possessed: 
Marble  was  her  breast." 
As  they  o'er  me  tread, 
Strangers  then  will  weep, 
Reading  in  the  rime 
Knowledge  of  her  crime 
In  the  olden  time 
When  to  death  I  bled. 

7. 

Enchanted  are  full  many  by  the  elf: 
So  by  the  spell  of  great  love  for  the  best 
Lady  e'er  loved,  I  am  bewitched  myself. 
But  if  she  hate  me  for  my  love  confessed, 
And  would  be  fain 
To  wreak  a  vengeance  dire 
Upon  me,  let  her  grant  me  my  desire : 
By  very  ecstasy  I  shall  be  slain. 

She  commands  me  from  my  heart  her  throne, 
Lady  and  lordlier  than  myself  can  be. 
And  O  to  be  her  prisoner  1  all  alone 
With  her  to  keep  an  easy  guard  o'er  me, 
Days  only  three, 
And  a  few  nights  as  well!2 
I  should  not  die  close  pent  in  such  a  cell! 
But  she  doth  hold  herself  alas  too  free. 

1)  Cf.  LD,  XXXIII,  294;  LXXXII,  9;  XCII,  15;  Osw.  76,  16—17,  varies 
the  image:   u locked   like   an   eremite   thine  arms  within".     Schmidt,   Reinm.,   p.  87; 
H.  v.  M.,  p.  270.;  Michel,  p.  103;  Matz.,  p.  157. 

2)  Cf.  Walt.,  6,  9—10;  LD,  XXVII,  38. 


42 

I  am  enkindled  by  her  bright  eyes'  glow, 
Even  as  when  fire  and  dry  tinder  meet; 
If  she  avoid  me,  sinks  my  spirit  low, 
As  when  ye  pour  out  water  on  red  heat. 
Her  visage  sweet, 
Her  noble  blood  and  mind, 
And  all  the  good  that  fame  is  forced  to  find 
In  her,  make  me  a  beggar  at  her  feet. 

When  her  bright  glance  is  turned  in  such  a  wise 
That  she  can  through  my  heart  behold  me  all, 
Whoever  steps  between    me   and  those  eyes, 
I  wish  that  all  perdition  him  befall. 
I  stand  at  call 

Before  her:  for  my  joy  I  stay, 
Even  as  the  little  birds  await  the  day. 
When  will  she  lift  my  spirit's  darkling  pall? 

8. 

Beauty  that  must  die  .... 

Troubles,  they  say,  are  sent  us  to  grow  wise  on.1 
Even  as  a  child  sees  its  sweet  image  lined 
Within  a  glass,  grasps  at  it,  and  then  cries  on 
The  shattered  fragments,  in  my  wiser  mind 
Love  so  lies  bleeding  sad  and  unresigned. 
The  zenith  blue  that,  when  I  first  set  eyes  on 
My  lady,  domed  a  distant,  dark  horizon, 
Is  gone,  and  has  not  left  a  gleam  behind. 

Love,  to  my  cries  of  passion  half  replying, 
Dreamwise  brought  to  my  couch  my  fancies'  queen ! 
And,   though   with  sleep-bound   arms   and   senses   sighing, 
I  lay  and  looked,  and  saw  her  to  demean 
The  soothing  sweetness  of  her  beauties  sheen, 
All  other  ladies'  beauty  far  out-vieing: 
Save  that  her  mouth  was  hurt,   and  thereon  lying 
The  shadow  of  a  sorrow  dimly  seen. 2 

Now,  after  that  frail  vision  dream-detected, 
I  fear  lest  her  red  lips  grow  pale  and  dim; 

1)  Cf.  Osw.  87,  2. 

2)  "With    a   touch  of  something  on   it  which  had   blurred  its  youth",   as  I 
understand  it. 


—     43      — 

And  must  henceforth  be  ever  deep  dejected, 
That  these  poor  eyes  of  mine  should  dare  to  limn, 
Though  innocent  in  sleep,  such  ruin  grim: 
Even  as  a  foolish  youth  that,  unsuspected, 
Comes  on  his  shadow  in  a  well  reflected, 
And  loves  it  until  death  releases  him. 

9. 

In  such  a  soaring,  sweet  delight 

My  heart  has  never  been  before : 

My  thoughts  flit,  like  a  bird  in  flight, 

About  her  evermore, 

Since  she  received  me  through   the  door 

Of  her  compassion,  and  through  my  soul  she  passed 

To  my  deep  heart's  core. 

The  world  it  is  a  little  matter, 
With  paltry  joys  I  do  not  heed. 
I  have  delight  enough  to  scatter 
On  forest,  heath,  and  mead. 
Though  hearts   that  yearn  are  parched   indeed, 
Love  in  the  end  relieves  them  with  a  rain 
On  rapture's  seed.1 

Now  be  the  sweet  hour  consecrated, 
The  season  and  the  day  her  eyes 
Shone,   and  first   my  heart  was   sated 
By  the  word  that  with  it  lies : 
Though  joy  in  terror  2  my  replies 
Shortens,  when  I  before  her  stand  and  stammer 
In  foolish  wise.3 

1)  I  have  imitated  LD,  XXV,   128,  and  the  Earl  of  Surrey: 

"And  when  salt  tears  do  bain  my  breast, 
Where  love  his  pleasant  trains  hath  sown, 
Her  beauty  hath  the  fruits  oppresst, 
Ere  that  the  buds  were  sprong  and  blown." 

2)  Cf.  LD,  XCII,   10;  Wilm.,  Leben,  III,  note  234. 

3)  The  Minnesingers  often  mention   their   shyness,   which  is  also  a  motive  fa- 
miliar to  the  Petrarchan  school  (Earl  of  Surrey:  "But  oft  the  words  come  forth  awry 
of  him   that  loveth  well";   Sir  Thomas  Wyatt's  son.  "Against  his   tongue  that  failed 
to  utter  his  suits";  Petrarch.  Son.   109,    136.     Chaucer,  too,    in  "Death  of  the  Lady 
Blanche").     Wate  in  "Kudrun"  is  more  comfortable  blood-imbrued  in  battle  than  with 
ladies.      Cf.   MF,    135,   30  seq.;    136,    15—16;    LD,   XV,    181;   XLI1I,    J37  seq.; 


—      44 

10. 

v  Ah  me,  shall  I  again  behold, 

Shining  through  the  night, 
Her  body  of  untainted  mould, 
Than  driven  snow  more  white? 
These  eyes  of  mine  it  would  betray : 
Methought  it  was  the  moon's  bright  ray, 
And  many  an  hour  from  day. 
And  then  it  dawned. 

"Ah  me,  if  he  should  never  more 
The  morn  with  me  await; 
And  should  not  need,  when  night  were  o?cr, 
To  moan  disconsolate: 
'The  hated  day  has  dawned.  O  woe !' 
As  he  was  wont  to  mutter  low, 
Close  to  me,  short  time  ago. 
And  then  it  dawned." 

Ah  me,  she  kissed  me  ii}  my  sleep 
More  than  I  could  tell; 
And  oft  the  tears,  for  she  would  weep, 
Down  on  my  face  they  fell. 
But  I  of  comfort  had  good  store, 
And  soothed  till  she  to  weep  forbore. 
And  then  it  dawned. 

"Ah  me,  how  oft  when  night  was  gone, 
He  bared  me  to  the  day, 
To  gaze  his  soul  away  upon 
My  arms  that  naked  lay. 
Nor  would  he  of  his  will  abate  :( 
Methought  it  was  a  wonder  great 
He  ne'er  was  satiate. 
And  then  it  dawned." 

XCVI,    24;    Walt.,  20,  15—18,  37  —  42;    21,  17  seq.;  H.  v.  Mont.  II,  70;   Michel, 
p.  103  seq.;  Hiippe,  XV,  25  seq.     Best,  perhaps,  MF,   176,  30: 

"How  could  I  help  it?     I 

Could  never  hear  thy  spoken  name, 

But  my  heart's  love  flung  out  its  flag  of  flame, 

So  that  the  standers-by 

Might  spy 

Upon  my  shame." 


—     45     — - 

XVI.  Sir  Reinmar  von  Hagenau.1 

1. 

Now  is  the  happy  time  preparing 

The  rapturous  season's  birth: 

Soon  the  sorrow  many  a  heart  is  bearing 

Shall  be  driven  out  by  mirth: 

And  I,  who  cannot  help  despairing, 

When  frozen  lies  the  earth, 

I  shall  be  gay  the  livelong  day, 

Soon  as  the  nightingale  shall  say 

All  grief  is  ended  by  the  month  of  May. 

2. 

I  have  heard  it  spoken, 

And  mine  own  eyes  see: 

Winter's  strength  is  broken; 

Sick  to  death  is  he. 

I  his  going  scarce  can  bide ! 

Slow  the  weary  hours  did  glide 

When  in  the  frozen  world  we  sighed. 

Now  my  sorrows  perish, 
Now  returneth  glee, 
Envy  if  men  cherish  - 
It  were  grief  to  me. 
I  can  injure  friend   nor  foe : 
And  to  whom  her  favours  go, 
What  imports  it  them  to  know? 

If  my  love  they  made  me 
From  the  world  conceal, 
Conscience  would  upbraid  me : 
"Like  a  thief  you  steal." 
Thievish  ways  I  will  not  learn : 
Seen  of  all  my  light  shall  burn, 
Whether  east  or  west  I  turn. 

When  the  girls,  a-Maying, 
Throw  the  flying  ball, 
God  forbid  that,  playing, 


l)  Not  the  Hagenau   in  Austria,   where  Richard  Coeur-de-Lion   was  confined, 
but  the  Alsatian  Hagenau  described  by  Longfellow  in  Tales  of  a  Wayside  Inn. 


-     46     - 

She  should  slip  and  fall. 
Maidens,  pray,  keep  more  apart : 
If   you   injure    my    sweetheart 
I  must  suffer  half  the  smart. 

3. 

My  heart  is  high  as  stands  the  mid-day  sun: 
This  comes  from  her  whose  favour  I  have  won 
And  constantly  retain,  where'er  I  be; 
My  heart  she  maketh  from  all  sorrow  free. 

I  can  but  give  my  life  and  say  'tis  hers : 
Naught  else  have  I  against  what  she  confers 
On  me,  and  only  me :  this  pride  and  glee 
When  I  consider  how  she  loveth  me. 

Nought  know  I  of  a  jealous  lover's  fears. 
Where'er  she  dwell,  the  country  she  endears : 
And  I,  if  she  did  cross  the  ocean  foam, 
Would  follow,  like  an  exile  summoned  home. 

Did  I  possess  a  thousand  men's  desires, 
I  yet  would  cling  to  her  whose  love  inspires ; 
And  if  as  gracious  she  remain  as  now, 
No  cloud  of  pain  will  ever  shade  my  brow. 

All  joy  from  her  that  came  not  was  but  cold. 
Whate'er  I  wish  for  she  does  not  withhold. 
The  happiest  hour  that  ever  I  have  known 
Was  when  her  favour  first  to  me  was  shown. 

4. 

I  have  marked,  as  on  the  heather  now  I  strayed, 
Fresh-springing  sweetly-fashioned  violets, 
And  bolder  flowers  in  flaunting  red  arrayed ; 
And  this  is  why  the  nightingale  forgets 
The  stubborn  woe  that  all  the  winter  long 
Weighed  on  her  heart  the  cheerless  trees  among. 
I  have  heard  her  song. 

My  heart's  heaviness,  soon  as  the  burgeons  burst, 
Like  to  a  carried  burden  I  laid  by: 
For  the  lady  for  whose  love  I  was  athirst 
Filled  such  a  chalice  for  my  lips  that  I, 


—     47     — 

Revived,  the  lightsome  mood  of  nature  share ; 
And  all  that  she  shall  do  to  me  I  swear 
Is  good  and  fair. 

She  sundered  sorrow  from  my  soul  that  smiles 

Like  these  pure  skies  whence  all  the  clouds  are  flown; 

Yet  not  a  thousand  women  with  their  wiles 

Could  have  achieved  it :  my  true  love  alone 

Routed  the  cares  that  surged  by  day  and  night: 

So  I  have  chosen  her  my  life's   delight 

In  the  world's  despite. 

My  portion  shall  be  rapture  without  end: 
I  wot  I  have  no  need  to  nurse  alarms ; 
And,  if  it  come  to  pass  as  I  intend, 
She  yet   shall  lie  in  secret  in  my  arms. 
I  shall,  when  my  embraces  hold  her  fast, 
Believe  that  I  to  Paradise  have  passed. 
If  dreams  would  last ! 

There  are  among  our  friends  who  love  me  not 
That  in  my  happy  face  my  joy  I  show: 
Their  venomed  glances  are  as  arrows  shot 
Beyond  the  mark :  I  heed  nor  friend  nor  foe. 
What  profit  all  the  pitfalls  they  devise? 
That  love  is  ripening  while  they  surmise 
Escapes  their  eyes ! 

5. 

And  are  ye  sure  the  news  is  true? 

"Tell  me,  envoy,  tell  me,  I  beseech  thee: 
Hast  thou  seen  the  man  so  dear  to  me? 
Are^  the  tidings  very  true  that  reach  me: 
Safe  and  sound  and  happy  still  is  he  ?" 
"I  have  seen  him  glad  as  any  in  the  land: 
But  he  shall  be  happier,  if  you  so  command." 

"I  will  never  charge  upon  him  sorrow: 
But  one  suit  of  his  I  do  forbid; 
And  to-day  I  beg  him,  and  to-morrow, 
Not  to  speak  it,  or  he  shall  be  chid."  - 
"Lady,  swear  not,  for  he  swears  that  he  will  wait: 


-     48     - 

What  is  bound  to  happen,  happens  soon  or  late/' 
—  "Hath  he  promised  to  my  will  to  bow  him : 

Not  to  rime  his  love  in  any  lay,2 

An  it  be  not  I  again  allow  him?" 

"Lady,  he  is  willing  to  obey. 

Be  it  song  or  silence,  it  is  yours  to  choose." 

"But  my  praises  by  his   silence  I  shall  lose.3 
If  he   sing  as   erst   my   grief  will  worse   be ! 

By  my  kin  he  might  to  death  be  done: 

Then  the  people  would  arise  and  curse  me,4 

That  I  robbed  them  of  their  minion. 

Woe  is  me,  and  anguished  more  and  more  my  brain, 

For  I  know  not.  shall  I  do  it  or  refrain. 
Woe  for  women !    There  is  none  discovers 

Such  a  love  as  words  alone  content. 

Well  then,  I  will  have  no  more  of  lovers! 

Faithful   women  does  unfaithfulness  torment. 

Were  I  inconstant  —  but  I  am  not  so  — 

And  he  deceived  me,  I  would  let  him  go." 

6. 

"Many  a  knight  comes  wandering  here : 
I  wish  he  would  at  home  remain. 
And  one  there  is,  to  me  most  dear; 
Cared  he  to  be,  where  I  were  fain 
He  were,  he  never  would  be  far. 
Alas !     What  do  the  watchers  gain 
That  seek  another's  joy  to  mar?" 

7.6 

What  sweetness  into  that  old  word  "woman"  grew ! 
How  soothing  is  it  both  to  speak  and  hear ! 
There  is  no  other  word  rings  half  so  true ; 
It  is  the  seal  of  noble  things  and  dear. 

1)  Cf.  LD,  XCV,  31;  Wilm.,  Leben,  III,  note  342. 

2)  Cf.  LD,  XLIX,   19  —  20. 

3)  Cf.  Walt.,   12,   10 — 12,  24. 

4)  Cf.  Walt.,   12,   13. 

5)  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide,  in  his  lament  on  "the  Nightingale  of  Hagenau';, 
praises  this  song  as  Reinmar's  chef  d'ceuvre. 


—     49 

Not  even  he  thou   lovest,  none  on  earth, 
O  woman,  praises  thee  to  thy  full  worth. 
Thou  dost  enrich  the  soul 
Of  all:  and  shall  I  lack  my  dole? 

8. 

Long  as  I  can  call  to  mind, 
Never  was   so   much   of  ill. 
In  the  world  you  shall  not  find 
One  who  does  attain  his  will. 
So  it  was,  and  is,  alas! 
Grief  did  ever  hearts  harass. 
Joy  and  sorrow  both  shall   pass. 

He  whose  passion  is  misprized 
Vainly  suffers  agony. 
Where's  the  gain,  to  be  despised?  — 
Only  sorrow's  usury. 
This  is  all  that  I  have  got. 
She  I  loved  so  well   hath  not 
Deigned  assuage   my  cruel  lot. 

"Constancy  is  lovers'  aid."  — 
This  is  but  a  juggler's  tale. 
Since  on  her  my  eyes  first   strayed, 
Never  did  my  service  fail. 
From  that  service  I   depart.  — 
No,  I  cannot  rend  my  heart.  — 
Love,  a  childish  game  thou  art! 

9. 

Summer,  they  say,  is  with  us  now, 
And  summer  pleasures  reign; 
They  bid  me  to  be  happy  as  of  yore,  — 
Alas,  I  know  not  how! 
Since  unrelenting  death  has  ta'en 
.     What  life  can  ne'er  restore. 

What  need  have  I  of  any  hours  of  mirth, 
Since  Leopold,  lord  of  my  joys,  lies  in  the  earth 
Whose  face  ne'er  shade  of  any  sorrow  wore, 
Whose  death  has  taken  from  the  world 
More  love  than  e'er  by  man  she  lost  before. 

Bit  hell,  The  Minnesingers.     I.  4 


—      50     — 

Blessed  was  I  who  am  forlorn, 
Whene'er  on  him  I   thought, 
And  that  my  happiness   he  gave ; 
But  now  my  love  is  torn 
Away  from  me,  my  soul  is  fraught 
With  sorrow  to  the  grave. 
Broken  the  mirror  of  my  rapture  lies 
That  I  chose  for  a  summer  scene  on  which  to 

feast  mine  eyes; 

Now  winter  morns  their  cheerless   sights  unroll, 
Since  first  I  knew  that  he  was  dead, 
And  the  blood  streamed  from  my  heart  upon  my  soul. 

On  me  an  interdict  of  bliss 
Lies,  now  his  sepulchre  is  closed, 
And  woe  is  sacred  for  his  sake. 
There  is  no  way  but  this : 
To  seem  as  if  my  heart  reposed, 
And  wait  until  it  break : 
To  pall  my  days  with  mourning  hues, 
All  consolation  to  refuse, 
And  pray  to  follow  soon  where  he  is  gone. 
Great  God,  receive  him  well:  ne'er  came 
A  nobler  errant  in  thy  garrison ! 1 


XVII.   Spervogel  II. 

1. 

Though  a  pure  woman  wear  not  rich  attire, 

Her  virtue  clothes  her  so,  good  men  admire : 

For  she  is  dight 

As  is  the  sun  so  bright, 

When  across   heavens  of  cloudless   blue  he  fareth; 

But  a  false  woman  has  no  honour  whatsoever  clothes  she  weareth. 

i)  This  Lament  must  have  been  written  in  the  spring  of  1195,  after  the  death 
of  Leopold  VI  of  Austria,  the  same  who  came  into  collision  with  Richard  Coeur  de 
Lion.  It  is  supposed  to  be  spoken  by  his  widow.  Leopold  had  sustained  a  fracture 
of  the  leg  in  a  tourney,  and  is  said  to  have  amputated  the  foot  himself  by  the  blow 
of  a  hatchet.  (He  is  also  called  Leopold  V). 


2. 

Amicos  secrete  admone,  palam  autem  lauda. 

If  you  a  good  friend  would  retain, 

From  public  censure  still  refrain. 

Closet  yourself  the  rather  with  the  friend 

To  show  him  how  his  manners  he  should  mend : 

And,  if  it  be  where  no  one  else  can  hear  you, 

Your  conduct  will  to  all  your  friends  endear  you. 

3. 

Felicitas  multos  habet  amicos. 

Shame  upon  thee,  poverty,  for  stealing 

Friends,  and  kith  and  kin,  and  wits,  and  feeling. 

When  a  man's  no  coin  about  him, 

Very  well  his  friends  can  do  without  him. 

They  who  flocked  around  him  greet  him  with  averted  faces ; 1 

Men  have  gracious  kindred  only  in  life's  pleasant  places. 

4. 

He  that  seeks  a  friend  where  he  hath  none: 

Tracks  game  when  snow  is  melting  in  the  sun: 

And  buys  a  pig  in  a  poke : 2 

And  plays  at  cards  with  sharping  folk: 

And  serves  a  niggardly  master  for  no  wages  3  — 

Let  him  hold  out  long  enough,  will  know  what  rage  is. 

1)  See  E.  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p.  90.     "oufiels  oiifev  tyovri,  (/u'Ao?".   Cf.  Heine 
"Frau  Sorge": 

"When  that  my  fortune's  sun  shone  warm 
Giddily  danced  the  midges'  swarm. 
Then  friends  I  loved  in  turn  loved  me, 
In  what  was  mine  shared  brotherly  — 
Shared  my  last  sirloin,  and  were  willing 
To  take  a  share  in  my  last  shilling. 

My  luck  is  gone,  my  purse  is  flat, 
Absent  the  friends  that  round  me  sat, 
And  with  the  passing  of  the  sun 
The  midges'  dance  is  dead  and  done. 
As  midges  with  the  sun  go,  hollow 
Friends  in  fortune's  footsteps  follow. 

2)  Cf.  Freid.  85,   5. 

3)  Cf.  MF,  21,   21. 

4* 


—     52      — 

XVIII.  Sir  Hartmann  von  Aue. 
1. 

Aequam  memento  servare  mentem. 

The  man  that  in  prosperous  days  is  sad, 

In  times  of  affliction  will  scarcely  be  glad. 

For  melancholy  a  cure  I  know: 

When  I  am  unlucky  my  thoughts  run  so :  — 

Vexations   are  common  the  whole   world  o'er; 

Be  patient:  some  unexpected  good 

Will  help  thee  undoubtedly  out  of  the   wood. 

I  look  to  the  things  that  the  future  has  in  store.1 

2. 

Me  lentus  Glycerae  torret  amor  meae. 

None  is  happy,  free  from  care 
In  this  world,  an't  be  not  he 
Who  in  love  has  ne'er  a  share, 
And  who  shuns  in  love  to  be.2 
Troubled  not  with  sighs  his  breath  — 
Sighs  of  yearning  that  to  death 
Bring  full  many  who  have  earned, 
But  receive  not,  love's  caress. 
He  by  passion  is  not  burned, 
Such  as  that  which  I  confess 
Is  my  furnace  of  distress. 

3. 

Myself,  arch -traitor  to  myself.3 

Were  I  to  hate  the  one  who  injures  me, 
I  am  my  foe,  and  must  myself  malign. 
Of  fickleness,  it  seems,  I  am  not  free: 
My  sorrow  is  of  this  the  outward  sign. 

1)  Cf.    MF,    20,    25  seq.;    22,    25  seq.;    LD,    LI,    12  seq.;   Walt.   20,  6—7; 
38,   17  seq.     Logau:  ''Fortune,  Sir,    you  cannot  force!     If  your  labour  only  fools  you, 
Stand  and   wait  till,   in   its  course,   Your   star  is  in  the  house  that  rules  you."     But 
Logau  expresses  the  different  view  as  well:  "What's  hope?     A  rotten  rope.     A  floor 
smeared  thick  with  soap." 

2)  Cf.  MF,  207,   7  — 10;  217,  34  seq.;  Waldb.  p.  41. 

3)  Cf.  Shakespeare's  sonnet  ''Farewell!  thou  art  too  dear   for  my   possessing." 


My  lady  loves  me  not,  the  fault  is  mine.1 
Since  sense  brings  joy,  as  is  all  men's  belief, 
And  lack  of  sense  is  granted  no  relief 
In  love,  then  was  my  love  a  fool's  in  brief, 
And   I  alone  am  guilty  of  my  grief. 

Since  she  was  right  my  homage  to  despise, 
If  she  her  noble  body  did  protect 
From  my  complaints  and  passion,  she  was  wise. 
Thus  was  my  anger  lacking  in  respect, 
And  hath  but  aged  me.     Seeing  my  defect, 
She  shunned  me,  cruelly  deliberate 
But  justly;  and  I  praise  her  for  her  hate, 
And  for  her  honour  she  would  not  abate 
To  succour  one  whose   faults   deserved  his   fate. 

She  judged  at  random,  not  as  I  deserved, 
When  first  she  took  my  oath  and  fealty: 
But  when  she  saw  my  service  sank  and  swerved, 
My  frail  love  and  her  logic  ruined  me. 
Yet  hath  she  granted  what  she  promised;  she 
Seeks  not  the  debt  she  owes  me  to  retain: 
She  weighed  me  in  the  scales,  and  fixed  love's  gain 
To  the  measure  of  the  merest  dram  and  grain. 
Thus  reason  shows:  by  my  own  sword  I'm  slain. 

4. 

The  lady  who  buoys  up  her  love 

Upon  this  pilgrimage  to  fare, 

Buys  half  of  his  reward  above, 

If  that  her  days  at  home  will  bear 

That  men   with   chaste   words   call  them   fair. 

Let  her  for  both  be  praying  here, 

While  he  for  both  is  fighting  there. 

5. 

Let  wilder  youth,  whose  soul  is  sense. 
Lightly   is  love  by  boasters   estimated: 
To  them  it  is  not  love  that  is  not  fleet. 
Nay,  love's  awakening  must  be  long  awaited, 

i)  Cf.  MF,  208,    18;   211,  35  seq. 


—      54      — 

And  in  the  coming  should  be  no  less  sweet. 
A  true  man's  love  is  true  and  cannot  waver: 
True  love's  enjoyment  loses  not  its  savour: 
Light  passion  lightly  heard  and  consummated 
Is  lightly  ended  by  swift   senses  sated.1 

6. 

My  true  Love  did  lichtly  me. 

"If  souls  of  men  are  saved  with  lies, 
One  I  know  whose  soul  is  saved. 
Mine  he  oppresses  till  it  cries 
Out   on  him.     He   depraved 
My  pride  to  hear  him :  dear  he  grew ; 
And  fondly  deemed  I :  only  in  graves 
Sundered  shall  hearts   be  sundered  too.2 
Then  failed  the  sense  that  women  saves,3 
And  the  world  knew  it.     And  he  is  true, 
As  are  the  sea  its  waves. 

And  often  I  made  others  praise  him.4 
Sufficed  not  my  own  heart's  deceit, 
Which  on  a  pinnacle  did  raise  him, 
With  me  to  worship  at   his  feet? 
Craven  the  knight  that  can  entice 
To  sin  a  woman  weak  of  wit ! r> 
So  wise  was  he  in  sweet  device,6 
The  words  should  be  on  parchment  writ. 
I  followed  him  out  on  the  ice,7 
And  I  dree  the  dole  of  it. 

If  I  should  hate  all  men,  it  were 
Because   of  one   man's  perfidy. 
Yet  there  are  women  happier 
Than   I   by  love,   then   there   must   be 
Some  men  of  falsehood  innocent. 
And  she  whose  good  mind  chooses  so 

1)  Cf.  Matz.  XXVIII,   28  —  30. 

2)  Cf.  MF,  87,  5- 

3)  Cf.  Walt.,  Paul,  7,  35 -36. 

4)  Cf.  Walt.,  Paul,  4,  25';  LD,  XV,  465;  and  Wilmanns  note  to  I,   I. 

5)  Cf.  Freidank,   100,   26—27. 

6)  Cf.  Walt.,  Paul,  8,  25  seq.;  Matz.,  p.  244. 

7)  Cf.  Osw.   102,  41.;  H.  v.  M.,  XVIII,  227,  XXVIII,   319,  XXXI,  83. 


—     55     — 

That  love  and  constancy  are  blent, 
Well  may  she  laugh  while  my  tears  flow: 
Grow  young  while  I  grow  old  and  bent.1 
But  I  reap  as  I  did  sow." 

7. 

Diligam  si  diligar. 

Often  I  this  greeting  hear  — 
Faint  inducement,  as  I   fear  — 
"Hartmann,  our  respects  to  show, 
Let  us  to  the  ladies  go." 
I  reply :   "My  pains   I'll   spare : 
You  can  court  'em,  if  you  care; 
All  the  good  that  I  am  there 
Is  to  stand,  and  at  them  stare/' 

Ladies  in  this  light  I  see:/ 
I  to  them  as  they  to  me ;  - 
With  a  poor  and  homely  lass 
I  prefer  the  time  to  pass. 
Wheresoe'er  I  go,  I  find 
Such  a  one  as   is  inclined : 
She's  my  lady,  if  she's  kind: 
What  avails  too  proud  a  mind? 

It  befel,  one  foolish  day, 
To  a  lady  I  did  say: 
"Madam,  if  you  only  knew 
How  I  pine  for  love  of  you!"  — 
Such  a  scowl  as  knit  her  brow!  — 
And  for  this,  as  I  avow, 
I  seek  out  such  women  now 
As  will  amorous  terms  allow. 


XIX.  The  Margrave  of  Hohenburg. 

The  sun  betrays  us  else  to  spies. 

Warder.     "I   guard   your  honour,   chatelaine, 
Watching  lest  a  knight  be  slain. 
Wake  him,  lady! 

1)  "Wiraltenungeliche".    Cf.  LD,XXV,  191 ;  CB,  943,3,3;  H.  r.  M.,  p.  186. 

2)  Cf.  Walt,  77,  57—58;  H.  v.  M.,  XVIII,  21,  25;  XXII,  35. 


God  grant  no  evil  him  betide ! 
May  he  awake,  and  none  beside. 
Wake  him,  lady! 
The  cock  has  crowed, 
Tis  time  he  rode: 

For  his  dear  sake  I  charge  you  mark  the  time. 
Lest   he   be   slain, 
Farewells  be  ta'en: 

If  he  should  sleep  too  late  it  is  your  crime. 
Wake  him,  lady!" 
Lady.     "The  plague  upon  thy  body  fall, 

0  warder,  and  thy  singing  all! 
Sleep,  truelove! 

Thy  watching  it  was  in  good  part: 
Thy  calling  cuts  me  to  the  heart. 
Sleep,  truelove ! 
Thou  warder  grave, 

1  never  gave 

Save  good  to  thee :  am  I  •  rewarded  so  ? 
Dost  wish  for  day 
To  chase  away 

The  rapture  yearned  for  long  that  came  .so  slow. 
Sleep,  truelove!" 

Warder.  "In  patience  shall  your  wrath  be  borne ! 
Your  knight  must  not  await  the  morn: 
Wake  him,  lady! 

He  without  fear  upon  my  faith  relied, 
And  I  in  turn  to  you  did  him  confide: 
Wake  him,  lady! 

0  fair  of  face, 
In  evil  case 

Are  you  and  I  if  he  be  stricken  low! 

1  sing  and  say * 
It  is  the  day: 

Now  wake  him  ere  my  bugle-horn  I  blow! 
Wake  him,  lady!" 

i)  Cf.  MF,   140,  25;   150,  3;  Walt.,   12,  5;  83,   128;  Osw.  61,  3;  63,  217. 
Robert  Henryson:  "Robin,  thow  hes  hard  soung  and  say, 
In  gestis  and  storeis  auld." 


—     57     — 

XX.   Sir  Hildbold  von  Schwangau. 

1. 

A  chaplet  brown  with  interwoven  white 
Now  fills  my  breast  with  zest  of  richer  days. 
My  lady  by  this  token  I  invite 
To  find  the  source  and  fount  of  these  my  lays. 
Time  hath  been  I  loved  four,  such  was  my  greed 
Now  more  than  for  the  four  for  o  n  e  I  bleed ; 
Love  was  a  sport  once,  now  1  love  indeed. 

If  but  her  beauty  kept  within  the  bounds 
Of  common  custom,  could  her  face  be  seen 
And  loved  not,  then  indeed  I  had  no  grounds 
For  all  these  long  complaints  of  anguish  keen. 
My  song  is  like  a  bird's,   now  high,  now  low; 
But  let  her  share  of  all  my  woes  one  woe, 
No   more  of  mourning  shall  my  music  know. 

2. 

The  fairest  ladies  and  the  best 
I  sought  between  the  Po  and  Rhine; 
Followed  for  years  the  careful  quest: 
And  found  them  in  this  heart  of  mine. 
Of  all  the  fairest  the  most  fail- 
Is  here,  then  here  be  my  repair: 
Gladly  my  roaming  I  confine 
As  close  to  her  as  she  may  care. 


XXI.   Sir  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide. 

Musagetes. 

"Who   shall  lead   the   nightingales' 
Choir  beloved  now  that   fails  ?  2 
One  there  is  who  will  not  falter  — 

1)  Cf.  LD,  LI,   i  —  ii ;  E.  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p.  80;  MF,  86,  5  seq.: 

"Did  I  love  more  than  one, 

As  is  the  way  with  many  a  mother's  son, 

It  were  ill  done, 

For  then  I  should  love  none." 

2)  After  the  death  of  Reinmar  von  Hagenau.    The  translation  of  this  poem  is 
free.     I  follow  Mr  Wyndham  in  making  nightingale  masculine  (Pleiade  p.  241). 


Follow  we  our  master,  Walter 
Von  der  Vogelweide,  he 
That  o'er  forest,  heath,  and  lea 
Ringeth  songs  of  magic  chime, 
Changing  every  running   rime : 
Rare  orchestral  chaunt,  and  paean 
Brought  down  from  the  empyrean, 
Hymns  that   sound  from   Cytherean 
Courts  where  he  is  bidden  dwell : 
Him  the  goddess  loveth  well. 
Let   him  lead   us :   he   can   lure 
From  their  haunts  love-notes  demure." 

Gottfried  von  Straszburg. 
1. 

Winter  has  injured  us  everywhere; 
Moorland  and  forest  are  withered  and  bare: 
Silent  the  voices  that  echoed  there. 
If  on  the  street  I  saw  girls  the  ball *  flinging, 
Then  I  should  know  the  birds  soon  would  be  singing. 

Could  I  but  sleep  while  the  winter  is  here ! 
Waking  I  hate  him,  the  misshapen  fere, 
Who  is  the  king  of  us  far  and  near. 
Soon  as  he  yieldeth  to  May  and  is  dying, 
Flowers  I  shall  cull  where  the  rime  now  is  lying. 

2.2 

Sublimi  feriam  sidera  vertice. 

The  world  with  red  and  blue  was  gay;    ^ 
Green  in  the  woods  and  by  the  way.3 

1)  LD,  XCVIII,  363  —  6: 

"Now  the  young  are  playing  all,  Summer's  games  it  heralds  in; 

Throwing  on  the  road  a  ball.  Then  the  sounds  of  mirth  begin." 

Cf.  also  LD,  XCVIII,  205;  XV,  581;  XXV,  244. 

2)  In  the  original  the  words  really  end  in  a,  e,  i,  o,  u.    The  song  is  parodied 
by  the  Sewer  of  St.  Gall: 

''To  string  a  strophe  on  the  letter  a, 
I  know  the  secret,  I  dare  say. 
Upon  the  master's  stops  I  play 
"Who  sang  of  the  hoodie-crow  a  lay. 
And  if  his  art  has  had  its  day 
Then  I  will  turn  from  him,  and  stray 
To  somebody  else  to  show  the  way." 

3)  Cf.  LD,  XCVIII,  613. 


—     59     — 

Where  the  birds   sang  lay  for  lay, 
Croaks  the  hoodie-crow  to-day. 
Hath  it  other  colours?     Yea: 
Lo,  how  pale  it  is  and"  gray! 
Men  knit  their  brows,  as  well  they 

On  a  green  hill  I  rested  me,  •£. 

Where  the  flowers  ran,  sweet  to  s£e, 
To  a  lake  all  down  the  lea. 
That  feast  for  eyes  no  more  may  ye 
Behold:  where  garlands  gathered  we, 
Rime  and  snow  lie  heavily. 
The  bird  is  shivering  on  the  tree.  „ 

"Snow  on !     Snow  on !"  the  simple  cry ;    / 
The  poor  folks  curse  the  biting  sky. 
Like  lead  on  me  the  dark  days  lie. 
For  hunger,  cold,  and  sadness   I 
Wish  in  winter  oft  to  die. 
But  all  my  griefs  would  quickly  fly, 
If  only  the  sweet  spring  were  nigh. 

Now  rather  than  live  longer   so, 
Give  me  to  eat  raw  crabs !  —  But  no ! 
Summer  soon  the   glades  will   sow 
With  the  fair  flowers  that  I   shall   go 
To  gather  where  the  brightest  blow : 
To  the  sun  will  soar  my  heart,1  which  low 
Sinks  in  my  breast  at  winter's  woe. 

Like  Esau's  self  shag-hair  I   grew,2 
Slovenly  and  idle  too. 
Lovely  summer,  where  are  you? 
O  that  the  corn  were  springing  new! 
Rather  than  in  such  shackles  brew 
So  black  a  spleen,  I'd  join  the  crew 
Of  the   gloomy   monks   at   Toberloo. 

3.3 

Till  the  day  breaking  their  embraces  broke. 

In  lovers'  way 
A  gallant  knight 

i)  Cf.  LD,  XLVIII,  7—8;  LXX,  4;  LXXX,  5;  Wilm.,  26,  5  —  6;  32, 
20;  MF,  117,  23;  139,  10;  156,  ii  —  14;  143,  n;  182,  14;  CB,  99 a;  F.  W.  Bourdillon 
uLeap,  happy  heart,  to  the  skies".  2)  Cf.  Neidh.,  18,  61 — 62. 

3)  Bartsch  sees  the  influence  of  Wolfram  in  the  "hiding  of  the  rimes". 


— -     6o     — 

Lay  in  a  lady's  arms :  he  saw  the  morning  break 

Out  of  the  distant  clouds;  and  from  the  bed 

The  lady  rose  and  said: 

"Woe  be  unto  thee,  day! 

That  thou  shouldst  come  my  love  from  me  to  take ! 

What  men  call  love  is  care,  and  not  delight." 

—  "Love,  I  entreat, 
Moan   not  for   me. 

Best  is   it  for  us  both   that   I   depart; 

Upon  thy  pillow  shines  the  morning  star.'' 

"Alas,  why  wilt  thou  mar 

Our  joy?     I  charge  thee,  sweet, 

Vex  not  with  needless  warnings  my  fond  heart. 

Why  wilt  so  soon  be  gone  ?     It  is  ill  done  of  thee !" 

—  "I  tarry  then 
A  little  yet. 

With  swift  words  say  what  ye  would  have  me  know, 

That  we  may  foil  the  spies  as  aye  before." 

"O  love,  my  heart  is  sore! 

Before  I  lie  again 

By  thee,  much  sorrow  must  I  undergo. 

Return  soon,  lest  I  fear  that  thou  forget." 

—  "If  so  it  were, 
Then  I  at  least 

Were  guiltless  all.     My  heart  with  thee  all  day 

Does  tarry,  though  my  body  distant  be." 

"O  love,  now  follow  me! 

Soon  shall  a  messenger 

Call  thee  to  me,  if  thou  wilt   still  obey. 

0  sight  of  woe!     All  ruddy  is  the  east." 

-  "What  help  the  flowers 

1  cannot  break 

For  thee?    They  are  as  welcome  to  my  mind 

As  are  to  little  birds  the  days  of  snow." 

"Dear  heart,  I  know,  I  know! 

And  many  weary  hours, 

An  age,  I  needs  must  miss  thee  unresigned. 

Lie  yet  a  little  while  for  kindness'  sake." 


—     61      — 

—  ''Dismiss   me   now, 
Ere  they  suspect! 

But  for  thy  honour's  sake  I  crave  to  go. 
Hearken!     The  warder  sings   his  matin-song/ 
"What  profits  to  prolong 
The  strife?     Thy  will  have  thou! 
To  bid  thee  hence  O  what  a  task  of  woe! 
May  He  who  gave  my  soul  thy  life  protect." 

He  rode   away; 
His   heart  did  burn. 

The  fair  good  lady  watched  him  all  in  tears; 
But  faith  he  kept  to  her  who  gave  him  all. 
She  spake:  "Who  from  the  wall 
Singeth  these  songs  of  day, 
Sings  with  intent  to  waken  me  with  fears. 
Now  must  I  lie  without  my  love  and  yearn." 


/        *      t  f 

When  the  summer  came  at  last, 

And  the  lovely  flowers   fast 

On  the  meads  were  springing, 

And  the   birds  were   singing, 

Gaily  I  did  sally 

To  a  stretching  valley, 

Where  the  woodland's  bubbling  spring 

Starteth  its  meandering; 

There  the  nightingale  did   sing. 

By  the  fountain   stands  a  tree; 
There  a   vision   came  to   me. 
Where  the  linden  branches  quiver 
Coolly  o'er  the  infant  river, 
When  the  mid-day  sun  oppressed  me 
Thither  wended  I  to  rest  me. 
Down  I  sate,  and,  by  my  fay, 
All  my  sorrows  fell  away: 
Soon  in  slumber  deep   I   lay.1 

i)  "Waters  murmuring  .  .  .  Entice  the  dewy-  feather'd  sleep"  (II  Penserosa 
11.  141  —  146)  in  all  literatures.  The  stream  in  the  grass  is  of  frequent  mention:  cf. 
CB,  52,  2;  65,  6,  60;  108,  5;  LD,  XLVII,  29.  Piers  Plowman,  I,  I  —  8. 


Then  I  dreamed,  and  on   a  throne 
Ruled  all  lands  that  e'er  were  known ; 
Free  to  sin,  for  my  high  station 
Guaranteed  my  soul's   salvation : 
Of  my  sins  I  was  acquitted 
Even   before   they   were   committed. 
As  you  think,  I  was  not   sad: 
Never  better  vision    had 
Any  mortal,  good  or  bad. 

Fain  had  I  slept  ever   so, 
But  a  miserable  crow  1 
Cawed  with  such  a  strident  gullet 
I  had  given  a  pound  to   pull  it. 
May  her  pleasure  unalloyed  be : 
Mine  with  one  fell  croak  destroyed  she. 
Much  the  sound  did  me  effray : 
But  that  no   stone  ready  lay, 
It  had  been  her  judgment  day. 

But  a  sybil  wondrous  old 
Did  the  mystery  unfold. 
When  I  told,  as  I  was  bidden, 
All  the  dream,  the  meaning  hidden 
She  discovered  in  a  minute  — 
O  ye  wise,  mark  what  was  in  it !  - 
One  and  two,  she  said,  are  three ; 
And,  besides,  she  made  me  see 
That  my  thumbs  both  fingers  be. 

5. 

Velut  inter  ignis  luna  minores. 

When  the  flowers  amid  the  new-grown  grass  are  springing, 

As  they  would  laugh  because  the  bright  sun  kisses 

The  dew  of  the  May  morning  all  away: 

When  the  little  birds  awake  are  singing 

The  sweetest  of  their  melodies:  "O  this  is 

The  sweetest  of  all  pleasures,"  you  will  say. 

It  is  indeed  half  Heaven  on  earth: 

i)  Crows  and  old  women  were  evil  omens.     "The  crow  with   voice  of  care 
(Chaucer  "The  Parliament  of  Fowls"  1.  363.) 


But  ask  ye  for  its  match  in  worth, 

I'll  tell  you  what  my  sight 

Hath   more  delighted,  and  again   would   more   delight. 

Tis  when  a  lady,  blithe  and  sweetly  greeting, 
Fair  chapletecl  and  richly  robed,  advances, 
With  manners  no  uncourtly  seeming  mars,1 
To  take  her  pleasaunce  at   some  festive   meeting, 
Girt  with  her  maids,  and  darting  round  her  glances 
As  when  the  sun  shines  out  on  the  wan  stars.2 
Though  May  should  all   his   marvels   bring, 
Which   of  them   is   so   rare   a   thing 
As  her  most  lovely  frame? 
We  leave  the  flowers  to  gaze  upon  the  noble  dame. 

Now  truth  is  to  be  had  for  all  who  seek  it : 
Come  where  the  spring's  high-tide  is  celebrated 
To  welcome  him  that  now  in  glory  came. 
Look  on  the  May  and  ladies,  and  then  speak  it: 
Which  of  the  two  shall  be  the  higher  rated, 
And  tell  me  if  I  have  not  won  the  game. 
I  say  forthwith,  if  I  shall  choose, 
And  for  the  one  the  other  lose : 
You  shall  be  March,  Sir  May, 
Ere  I  will  lose  my  lady  for  your  pleasures  gay.s 

6.4 

And  could  I  braid  wi'  gems  your  hair. 

"Will  you  take  this  wilding  wreath?" 
I  murmured  to  a  maiden  fair, 
"To  grace  the  dance  on  the  heath 
When  you  wear  it  on  your  shining  hair. 

1)  Hovelichen   hohgemuot  =  mit   ziihten  gemeit   I,   19;  in  rehter  maze  gemeit, 
MF,   15,   12  = ''modest  in  her  most  of  mirth"  (Browne  Shall  I  tell  you  whom  I 
love?)     Cf.  Heywood?  in  Tottel's  Miscellany  "The  modest  mirth  that  she  doth  use". 

2)  Cf.    Ronsard's    son.    CXIII,    Le   Premier  Livre    des   Amours;   Thos. 
Randolph,   "Rise  like  the  morn,    Clad  in  the  smock  of  night,  that  all  the  stars  May 
close    their   eyes";    Horace,    Odes   III,    15    (image   reversed)    ''desine   stellis   nebulam 
spargere   candidis".     Add   to  Wilmanns'    parallel  passages  LD,  XXXII,  71  seq.  and 
Konig  Rother,   71 — 74. 

3)  Cf.  MF,   141,   13—14;  LD,  LXXXIV,  73  seq. 

4)  This   is   a   dancing   song.     Wilmanns   compares   a  Volkslied,    which   is   still 
sung  in  Germany,  and  which  reminds  me  of  the  song  the  children   sing  in  England: 


-     64      - 

If  I  had  many  a  precious  jewel,1 
Yourself  should  wear  them  all 


'She  is  handsome,  she  is  pretty  — ".    In  the  Volkslied  the  one  singing  stands  in  the 
middle  of  the  ring  and  picks  out  a  dancer,    when  he  comes  to  the  following  passage: 
"Turn  around  and  turn  around, 
Till  my  truelove  I  have  found. 
Turn  around  while  I  am  speaking : 
You're  the  one  that  I  am  seeking. 
See  that  you  keep  your  bonnet  on! 
You  owe  me  a  kiss  of  a  year  agone," 

In  Walther's  song,  the  singer  would,  perhaps,   select  his  partner  at  the  line:   "Lassie 
just  bend  back  — ". 

This  is  also  the  most  beautiful  dream-poem  in  the  Minnesong.  It  should  be 
compared  with  those  by  von  Hausen,  von  Morungen  and  Der  Diirner,  and  also  with 
Joachim  du  Bellay's  sonnet  (Le  fort  sommeil,  que  celeste  on  doibt  croire),  which 
have  attempted  to  translate  as  follows: 

"Sweeter  than  honey  sleep  men  deem  divine 
Distilled  upon  my  weary  lids,  when  she 
Who  is  the  vessel  of  all  joys  that  be, 
Passed  to  my  soul  through  portals  eburnine. 
Then  did  mine  arms  that  marble  neck  entwine, 
That  alabaster  breast  I  clasped  to  me 
No  less  lascivious  fast  than  elms  you  see 
On  the  loamy  banks  of  Loire  looped  by  the  vine. 
Pitiless  love  had  into  my  sick  marrow- 
Darted  a  furious  flame-pointed  arrow, 
And  now  my  soul  roved  on  her  lips  of  rose, 
Ready  to  pass  to  the  forgetful  stream, 
When  lo!  the  morning,  envious  of  my  dream, 
The  gates  of  luscious  sleep  wide  open  throws". 
Cf.  also  Ronsard  (ier  Livre  des  Amours,  son.  XXIX): 

"If  now  my  arms  en  twist  themselves  and  cling 
Round  pinks  and  lilies  heaped  in  their  embrace. 
Closer  than  tendrils  of  the  vine  enlace 
The  branch  beloved  in  many  a  wanton  ring; 
If  care  no  more  my  cheeks  is  yellowing, 
If  pleasure  flies  no  more  before  my  face, 
But  night  redeems  the  leaden  days'  disgrace, 
To  thee,  O  dream  divine,  my  thanks  I  bring. 
I  would,  pursuing  thee,  soar  to  the  skies; 
But  this  thy  image  floating  in  my  eyes 
Cheats  my  delight  when  it  is  most  athirst. 
Thou  fleest  me  when  I  would  seize  the  boon, 
As  lightning  flashes  and  is  gone  as  soon, 
Or  as  a  cloud  is  by  the  wind  dispersed". 

i)  Gestein  =  edel  gestein  LD,  III,  17;  XXI,  104;  cf.  LD,  XXVI,  i; 
LXIX,  92;  HMSI,  336a;  H.  v.  M.,  II,  12. 


-     65     - 

In  one  bright  coronal  — 

Believe  it,  dearest  maid,  and  be  not  cruel ! 

You  are  so  exquisite, 
I  culled  the  garland  but  for  you : 
Think  not  too  mean  of  it. 
I  know  where  flowers  of  brightest  hue 
Are  growing  in  the  distant  heather: 
Birds  are  singing 
Where  they  are  springing  — 
There  let  us  go  to  gather  them  together!'' 

She  took  the  gift;  and  said 
Her  thanks  in  maiden's  manner,  shy. 
Her  cheeks  grew  red 
Like  roses  that  by  lilies  lie. 
She  veiled  her  eyes  as  she  were  frightened; 
The  curtsy  that  she  made 
My  trouble  all  repaid. 
—  And  was  that   all?     Ye  shall  not  be   enlightened. 

Methought  as  then  so  fain 
My  mind  had  never  been  before : 
The  trees  did  rain 

Their  blossoms  down  upon  us  more  and  more. 
Then  laughed  I  so  my  sides  were  shaken  — 
Such  joy  it  seemed 
The  while  I  dreamed; 
And  then  it  dawned  and  I  was  forced_to  awaken. 

And  thus  it  did  arise 
The  girls  I  meet  these  summer  days 
I  peep  into  their  eyes 
Hoping  my  dream-maiden  meet  my  gaze. 
Is  she  dancing  here  with  you,  I  wonder?  — 
Lassie,  just  bend  back 
Your  bonnet  brim !  x  —  Alack ! 
Could  I  but  find  her  out  my  garland  under! 


i)  Large  hats,  which  covered  nearly  the  whole  face,  were  worn  especially  in 
Austria,  where,  doubtless,  this  poem  was  written.  Cf.  LD,  LXXXI,  41,  Hadlaub, 
Ettm.,  XII. 

Bithell,  The  Minnesingers.     I.  5 


—     66      — 
7. 

Sweet  red  splendid  kissing  mouth. 

There  is  a  lady  conquering  with   glances: 
Happy  the  hour  she  was  to  me  revealed! 
A  hard-embattled  legion  of  my  fancies 
Against   her   sent,  were  forced  and  fain  to   yield.1 
And  sure  I  know  that  ransom  there   is  none.2 
Her  excellence  and  beauty  have   clone  this, 
And  her  red,  laughing  mouth  that  were  so  sweet  to  kiss. 

And  so  my  soul  and  senses  serve  and  crave  her, 
Who  is  so  sweet,  and  pure,  and  excellent ; 
And,  lest  I  die  of  longing  for  her  favour, 
I  dare  to  hope  that  she  may  yet  relent. 
And  grant  the  greatest  guerdon  e'er  I  won. 
Her  excellence  and  beauty  have  done  this, 
And  her  red,  laughing  mouth  that  were  so  sweet  to  kiss. 

8. 

/   See  what   sweet   rejuvenescence 
/    Brings  the  wondrous  May! 

Priests  and  laymen  feel  his   essence 

In  their  limbs  to-day. 

Be  his  bounty  sung! 

May  must  be  a  necromancer: 

When  he  calls  all  hearts  do   answer, 

And  the  old  are  young. 

Where  the  village   youth   are   faring, 
Let  us  too  advance ! 
We  can  keep  our  courtly  bearing, 
Though  we  laugh  and  dance. 
Who  would  not  be  gay? 
When  the   little  birds   are  joyous, 
Need  the  mirth  of  churls  annoy  us? 
\       Let  us  do  as  they! 

1)  More  literally: 

Happy  the  hour  when  first  I  came  to  know  her. 
Who  hath  my  soul  and  body  overthrown, 
Since  all  my  thoughts  she  drew  could  not  o'erthrow  her, 
She  took  them  from  me,  and  made  them  her  own. 

2)  "none"  rimes  with  "won"  in  the  second  stanza.     Rimes  in  different  stanzas 
are  called  "Korner". 


-     67     - 

May,  all   quarrels   thou  allayest: 
Pains  thou   dost   appease.1 
Thou  the  trees  in  green  arrayest: 
Brighter  yet  the   leas. 
Woods  are  less  alive. 
In  the  fields  thou  hast  thy  quarter: 
"I  am  longer,  thou  art  shorter," 
Grass  and  clover  strive. 

Rosy  mouth  to  mirth  unbending, 
Let  thy  laughing  be ! 
'Shame  upon  thee  for  intending 
To  work  woe  on  me ! 
Is  it  not  unfair, 

To  degrade  a  mouth  so  pleasing 
To  the  graceless  task  of  teasing 
One  that's  in  despair? 

Happy  May,  if  I   abuse  thee, 
I  am  forced  to  do. 
There  is  one  thing  does  confuse  me 
Ladv,  it  is  you. 
Am  I  still  to  grieve? 
Is  even  May  to  see  us  parted? 
How  you  can  be  so  hard-hearted 
I  can  not  conceive. 

Lady,   send   away   my   sorrow, 
While  the  season's  new! 
But   if  I  must  pleasure  borrow,2 
May  God  still  bless  you ! 
Look  around  you   here! 
Where  do  you  see  any  sadness? 
Shall  not  I,  in  all  this  gladness, 
Have  a  mite  of  cheer  ? 3 


1)  Bayard  Taylor  translates:  "Happy  May,  thy  spell  divideth  All,   but  not  in 
hate"!     May  is  represented  as  a  King  who  sets  up  his  judgment-seat  in  the  meadows 
(not  in  the  woods,  though  these  too  feel  his  power,  see  46,   17  seq.),   and  settles  all 
disputes,  but  not  the  sweet  rivalry  of  flowers,  nor,  alas!  the  struggle  of  disregarded  love. 

2)  =  Though  myself  unhappy,    I  will  rejoice  at  the  happiness  of  others.     Cf. 
21,  3;  77,  32;  LD,  XXXIII,  43. 

3)  F.  T.  Fischer,  "Ans  Diendl".  Broselein  Freude    .E.  Schmidt,  Reinm.  p.  51. 


—     68     — 

9. 

If  I  do  ever  live  to  gather  roses  1 

With  the  girl  the  roses   pale  before, 

Then  shall  a  chain  of  days  that  rapture  closes 

Link  us  lovers   evermore. 

O  that  betimes  that  kiss  were  mine 

From  her  lips  of  carnadine, 

To  brim  my  cup  of  pleasure  o'er  and  o'er! 

10. 

Multa  in  rosa. 

"On  the  heather-lea, 
In  the  lime-tree  bower, 
There  of  us  twain  was  made  the  bed: 
There  you  may  see 
Grass-blade  and  flower 
Sweetly  crushed  and  shed. 
By  the  forest,  in  a  dale, 
Tantaradei ! 2 
Sweetly  sang  the  nightingale. 

To  our  meadow  meeting, 
By  the  woodland  shady, 
Was  my  truelove  come  before. 
Had  prepared  such  greeting, 
By  our  Lady, 
I  am  happy  evermore. 
Did  he  kiss  me?     Did  he  kiss? 
Tantaradei ! 
See  my  mouth  how  red  it  is ! 

He  the  lawn  arraying 
Had  with  flowers  smelling  sweetly 
Made  a  couch  so  gay  and  fair. 
Any  stranger  thither  straying 

1)  To  gather  roses  or  flowers  in  the  terminology  of  the  Minnesong  means  what 
is  indicated  in  Goethe's  "Sah  ein  Knab'  ein  Roslein  stehn".     The  flowers  are  broken 
in  the  poem  next  translated.     Cf.  poem  by  Wenceslas  of  Bohemia;  Osw.  65,  35  —  36. 

2)  The  refrain  is  used  by  Karl  Henckell  ("Tandaraclei")   in  his  poem  Friih- 
ling.     Adalbert    v.    Hanstein    imitates    it   (in    Der   Musikant)    ''Rumdaradei!"     A 
Flemish  poet,  Pol  de  Mont,  has  "tandarada!"    Imitation  of  thePNightingale's  song  L 
LXI,   "Deilidurei  faledirannurei ,  lidundei  faladaritturei." 


-    69    - 

Would  discreetly 

Smile  to  see  the  havoc  there. 

By  the  roses  he  discovers, 

Tantaradei ! 

Where  my  head  lay  and  my  lover's. 

That  he  lay  with  me 
God  in  Heaven  forbid 
Any  one  should  hear  and  tell! 
Only  I  and  he 
Know  what  there  we  did. 
We  shall  keep  the  secret  well. 
He  and  I  and  a  little  bird, 
Tantaradei ! 
Tells  not  what   it   saw  and  heard."1 

11. 

If  aught  for  me  thou  care 
I  know  not:  deeply  I  adore  thee. 
One  thing  is  hard  to  bear  — 
Thou  lookest  ever  past  and  o'er  me. 
Thy  cruelty  abate! 
I  cannot  drag  the  weight 
Of  all  this  love  if  I  am  goaded! 
Help  me  to  bear,  I  am  too  heavy  loaded! 

But  if  thy  foresight  should 
Cause  thus  thine  eyes  to  sink  demurely: 
If  it  is  for  my  good, 
Then  I  will  not  reproach  thee,  surely. 
But  shun  my  head,  and  I 
Shall  understand  for  why: 
And  let  thy  gaze  upon  my  feet  be, 
Canst  thou  no  further  go;  thus  shalt  thou  greet  me. 

All  other  dames  I  see, 
They  may  delight  me  with  good  reason: 
My  mistress  I  call  thee, 
Nor  to  another  is  this  treason. 
Though  some  of  them  are  great 
In  kindred  and  estate, 

i)  The  situation  is  "erlautert"  in  the  second  chapter  of  Scherr's  Michel, 


—     70     — 

And  haughty  for  their  gentle  blood, 

They  may  in  birth  be  better,  thou  art  good. 

Now  ask  thy  secret  thought 
If  thou  love  me,  and  shalt  thou  hide  it. 
A  lover's  love  is  naught, 
If  there's  no  second  love  beside  it.1 
Single  love's  a  trouble, 
A  treasure  when  it's  double : 
A  priceless  treasure  when  it  goes 
Right  through  two  hearts  and  findeth  there   repose. 

12. 

Ne  sit  ancillae  tibi  amor  pudori. 

My  heart's  best! 
God's  benison  upon  thee  fall! 
If  better  greeting  I  possessed, 
I  had  saluted  thee  withal. 
I  can  but  tell  thee  of  the  thorn 
That  rankles  in  my  love  for  thee,  for  whom  I  suffer  scorn. 

They  blame  me  then 
Because  I  love  a  low-born  girl. 
The  charms  that  fetter  earnest  men 
They  know  not:  like  a  village  churl 
Whose  hard  rind  Cupid's  arrow  spares, 
They  woo  for  wealth  and  beauty :  what  a  love  is  theirs ! 

With  beauty  are 

Full  often  thoughts  unkind :  beware ! 
Grace  soothes  more  the  heart  by  far: 
Beauty  with  grace  can  not  compare.2 
Grace  gives  beauty  to  the  face : 
But  beauty  cannot  in  return  give  any  woman  grace. 

Their  taunts  I  bear 
As  I  have  done,  and  still  shall  do. 
Thou  art  rich  enough;  and  thou  art  fair 
Beyond  the  wits  of  all  their  crew; 
And  art  the  dearer  for  their  spleen. 
I  love  thy  glass  ring  better  than  the  gold  one  of  a  queen. 

1)  Cf.  Walt.,  Paul  6,  21  scq.;  H.  v.  M.,  p.  238. 

2)  Cf.  Wilra.,  69,   ii  seq. 


__  *J    T  

If  thoit  art  true 
And  tender,   I  need  fear  no  ill 
Will  evermore  to  me  accrue, 
Making  me  wretched  by  thy  will. 
And  if  thou  wert  not  both  to  me, 

I  would  tear  thy  tendrils  from  my  heart  and  die  for  love 
of  thee! 

13. 

Most  perfect  formed  of  women  yet, 
Her  gratitude  to  me  belongs, 
And  shall:  her  loveliness  I  set 
Framed  in   the  jewels   of  my   songs. 
My  homage  unto  all  I  pay, 
But  I  am  vassal  knight  to  one : 
Another  knows  his  own/  and  may 
Bepraise  her  as  the  moon  or  sun  — 
I  care  not  though  he  steal  my  air 
And  words :  while  I  praise  here  let  him  praise  there. 

Her  head  it  is  so  rich  in  bliss,1 
As  it  would  be   my  Paradise. 
All  else  would  be  compared  amiss : 
It  hath   the   glory   of  the   skies. 
The  Gemini  are  shining  there : 
If  I  could  come   so  near  to  her 
To  see  myself  in  them,  I  swear 
A  miracle  would  then  occur: 
I  should  grow  young,  and  from  my  heart 
The  yearning  that  torments   me  would   depart. 

God  toiled  to  make  her  cheeks  aright, 
And   did  with  loveliest   hues   bepaint: 
Such  perfect  red,   such  perfect  white,2 
Here  roses  burn,  there  lilies  faint. 
If  haply  I  do  not  blaspheme, 

1)  Cf.  Wilm.,  40,  9. 

2)  See  Matz.  194;  H.  v.  M.,   207;  Wack.,  Kl.  Sch.,  I  p.  161,   which  does  not 
agree  with  following:  "Verirrung   gegen   den  Geschmack  der  Zeit  war,  dasz  die  Eng- 
lander  des  12.  und  i3.Jhdts.  die   bleiche  Farbe  fur   schon  hielten  und  durch  Weisr- 
schminken  zu  erreichen  suchten.     Gesiinder  war  der  Franzosinnen  Geschmack,  welche 
sich ,  wenn  sie  blafi  waren ,  durch  gutes  Friihstiick  besser  zu  farben  suchten"  (Weinh. 
I,  224).     Cf.  CB,  51,  2;   136,  3;   141,   2. 


—     72     — 

The  firmament,  or  the  Great  Bear, 

Does  not  so  lovely  seem.  — 

M  e  a  c  u  1  p  a  that  such  sin  I  dare ! 

If  I  my  love  do  not  control, 

My  mouth's  praise  will  be  the  ruin  of  my  soul.1 

She  hath  a  cushion  crimson  dyed ; 
If  I  could  win  it  for  my  lips, 
Then  would  I  tear  my  gloom  aside, 
Bright  as  the  sun  from  an  eclipse. 
And  he  against  whose  cheek  she  lays 
That  cushion,  closer  presses  he: 
And  when  his  mouth  thereunto   strays, 
It  is  as  balsam  it  should  be. 
If  she  would  lend  2  it  me  to  use, 
I  would  not,  when  she  asked  it  back,  refuse.3 

Her  neck,  her  hands,  and  her  two  feet  - 
No  man  hath  ever  fairer  seen; 
And  I  could  praise,  if  it  were  meet, 
The  other  charms  that  lie  between.4 
I  cried  not  "cover  up!"  when  I 
To  see  her  naked  had  the  luck : 
She  saw  me  not,  when  she  let  fly 
The  dart  that  rankles  where  it  stuck. 
I  praise  the  hidden  place  endeared 
Where  the  fair  lady  from  her  bath  appeared. 

14. 

Love's  sight. 

In  summer  and  in  winter  for  his  pains 
Finds  comfort  he  who  comfort  longs   to  find: 
But  he  in  genuine  joy  a  child  remains 
Whose  joy  is  given  not  by  a  lady  kind. 
And  let  it  be  confessed: 
All  women  shall  be  honoured,  but  the  best  ones  best. 

Since   men  unblessed  by   joy   all   worthless   be,5 

1)  Cf.  H.  v.  Mont.  XVI,  46,  XXIV,   I  seq.,  XXXI. 

2)  Cf.  LD,  LXXXV,  63. 

3)  Cf.  MF,  1 60,  4— 5;  E.  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p.44~45  5  D*ez,  p.  253;  Waldb.  p.  55. 

4)  See  Schultz  I,  p.  166;  cf.  LD,  LXXI,   120;  H.  v.  M.,  XXI,  23. 

5)  Cf.  Ellen  Key,   Tankelinier:    "De   djupaste   af  alle   tankar   --   Spinozas 
tanke  —  att  gladjen  ar  fullkomlighet."     See  Wilmanns'  note  to  gem  e  it,  I. 


—     73 

I  seek  it  from  the  lady  of  my  choice : 

Of  whom  my  heart  has  never  lied  to  me, 

But  bidden  me  in  her  excellence  rejoice: 

My  eyes  it  sends  to  spy  1 

Her  out,  and  still  they  bring  such  news  it  leaps  on  high. 

How  it  is  done,  indeed  I  cannot  tell : 2 
Long  is  it  since  my  eyes  on  her  I  set  — 
Is  it  that  my  heart's  eyes  about  her  dwell, 
So  that  without  my  eyes  I  see  her  yet? 
A  miracle  to  admire! 
Who  gave  my  heart  the  power  to  see  her  at  desire? 

Would  ye  be  fain  to  know  what  these  eyes  are 
I  see  her  with  wherever  I  may  turn?  — 
They  are  my  heart's  imaginings,  and  far 
And  near  through  wall  and  wainscot  they  can  burn. 
Maugre  the  watchful  spies 
My  heart  and  will  and  mind  behold  her  with  keen  eyes. 

Shall  I  be  ever  such  a  blessed  man 
That  she  without  her  eyes  can  see  me  plain? 
Yea,  with  her  thoughts  themselves?     Soon  as  she  can, 
Mine  will  have  been  repaid  with  ample  gain. 
Let  her   repay   my  pains, 
Inclining  thoughts  to  me  whose  magnet z  she  remains. 

15. 

My  dule  is  dern ,  bot  gif  thow  dill. 

Say  who  can  tell  what  true  love  be? 
Partly  I  know,  but  would  know  more. 
Can  any  one  enlighten  me 
Why  it  should  make  the  heart  so  sore?  — 
Love  is  love,  if  it  make  glad: 
I  know  not  how  it  shall  be  called,  if  it  make  sad. 

What  love  is,  let  me  see  if  I  can  guess : 
Confirm  me,  if  my  guess  is  fair.  — 
Love  is  two  hearts'  happiness: 

1)  Cf.  MF,   177,  5  seq.;  LD,  XXII,  44. 

2)  Cf.  Chaucer,  "Dethe  of  Blaunche  the  Duchesse",  11.  911  —  12  —  "for,  be  hit 
never  so  derke,  Me  thinketh  I  see  hir  ever-mo."     Cf.  Wolfram  3"*  poem  translated, 
and  LD,  LI,  73  —  74;   Walt.,  45,   10;   MF,   138,  27  seq.;   du  Bellay,   les  Amours 
XXVII;  H.  v.  M.,  p.  236;  Matz.  p.  233. 

3)  ''adamas"  mentioned  MF,    144,  27;  Frauend.,  334,  4. 


—      74     — 

If  both  the  shares  are  equal,  love  is  there. 

But  if  the  pair  do  share  not,  nay, 

One  heart  can  hold  not  all!  —  Share  mine,  O  lady,  pray! 

See,  lady,  with  my  load  how  I  am  bent ! 
If  ye  will  help  me,  help  me  while  ye  may ! 
But  if  I  am  to  you  indifferent, 
Proclaim   it,  that   my  fetters   fall  away, 
And  I  may  flee  your  face.     But  of  one  thing 
Be  sure :  better  than  I  no  man  your  charms  can  sing. 

Can  my  lady  make   sweet   sour? 
Thinks  she  I  shall  love  her  to  be  hated? 
And  laud   her  beauty  every  hour, 
Merely  to  be  humiliated? 
Things  lie  not  so,  if  I  see  clear.  - 
I  drivel!     Whom  love  blinds  can  neither  see  nor  hear! 

16. 

Whoso   makes  bold  to  say  that  Love  is  Sin, 
Let  him  consider  well ! 
With  Love  the   Virtues  dwell: 
,And  good  men  have  good  right  to  enter  in 
Her  mansion,  and  to  follow  in  her  train. 
But  they  are  not  her  minions  who  from  evil  not  refrain. 
I  do  not  laud  False  Love:  Mis  love  better  named, 
That  I  abhor,  and  them  by  False  Love  shamed. 

17. 

Suit  to  his  lady,  to  rue  on  his  dying  heart. 

They  who  my  pleasure  in  the  winter  foiled,1 
An  they  be  men  or  women,  aye  or  both, 
May  theirs  this  summer  weather  be   not   spoiled ! 
Alas,  that  I  have  learned  not  one  good  oath! 
I  know  none  such, 
Except  the  evil  word  "damnation!"  and  that  is   too  much. 

Two  imprecations  fearful  to  the  ear 
I  do  know,  and   I  launch  them  at   their  head : 
May  they  the  donkey  and  the  cuckoo  hear  2 

1)  i.  e.,  the  "spies". 

2)  It  was  thought   that   anyone  who   heard   "the  cuckoo  most  unkind"   before 
breakfast   would    be   condemned   to  hunger   the  whole  year.      The    reference    to    the 
donkey   is   unexplained.     Cf.  66,  5— 6  ;    LD,    L,  21.     In  Finnish  ballads  the  cuckoo 
is  a  bird  of  good  omen. 


—     75 

Some  morrow   morn,    ere   they   have   breakfasted ! 

Then  woe  befall ! 

If  I  but  knew  they  rued,   I  would  the  curse  recall. 

In  patience  Christians  shall  their  wrongs  endure : 
But  shameless  men  a   sport  of  patience  make; 
The  good  man  is  of  bad  men's  hatred  sure 
And  contumely,  even   for  his  virtue's   sake. 
If  the  good  and  fair 
Lady  console  me,  for  their  hate  I  do  not  care. 

If  I  love  any  better,  dame  or  maiden  — 
In  all  men's  sight  by  her  sweet  self  I  swear  1  — 
Then  with  the  curse  of  Hell  my  soul  be  laden! 
But  when  I  make  the  oath  let  her  be  there ! 
If  she  be  kind, 
She  will  believe  it,  and  relieve  the  anguish   of  my  mind. 

Gentles  and  friends,  I   struggle  for  dear  life ! 
Help  me  before  the  end,  if  so  ye  may. 
Unless  I  am  the  victor  in  love's  strife, 
I  am  woe's  victim  and  unresisting  prey. 
My  heart's  deep  wound 

Can  not  be  healed,  unless  by  love-spells  o'er  it  crooned: 
My  heart's  deep  wound 

Will  kill,  unless  she  lift  me  up  when  I  have  swooned : 
My  death  is  sure 
From  my  heart's  wound,  unless  my  Hildegund  will  cure.2 

18.3 

Ye  must  welcome   me   sincerely: 
It   is   I   who   tidings   bring. 

1)  Cf.  LD,  XCVI,   18;  see  E.  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p.  84. 

2)  Cf.  Osw.  29,   i — 6.    The  extension  of  the  last  stanza  by  four  lines  is  called 
"geleit"   (Wechsel   des  Abgesangs)  =  Prov.  tornada.     The   name   Hildegunde  is,   of 
course,    fictitious,    and   is   a   graceful   reference   to   the  epic  poem   of  the   true  lovers 
"Walther  and  Hildegunde".      "Mihi  mors  est  iam  vicina",  Matz.  p.  no. 

3)  This  famous  poem  has  been  called  a  mediaeval    "Deutschland,   Deutschland 
uber  Alles!"     It  is   the   first   anthem   in  honour  of  the  German  Fatherland.     Its  po- 
pularity is  proved  by  Ulrich  von  Liechtenstein's  praise  (776): 

"This  song  my  very  heart-strings  caught, 
And  played  thereon  so  glad  a  tune 
My  soul  was  lull  as  a  rose  in  June  — 
So  good  and  sweet  the  song,   methought, 
My  heart  was  to  enchantment  wrought." 


_     76     - 

All  that  others  said  is  merely 

A  trifle  to  what  I  sing. 

But  remember  to  reward  me : 

For  I  may  chance  to  tell, 

For  a  good  guerdon,  what  may  please  you  well. 

See  what  honours  then  ye  can  accord  me. 

I  bring  such  news  for  our  ladies, 
They  shall  have  for  ever  hence 
More  honour  than  e'en  now  to  them  paid  is : x 
And  I  crave  slight  recompense. 
I  will  only  ask  politely 
That  the  ladies  of  the  land  - 
A  lowly  bard  what  else  could  I  demand 
Of  them  —  with  greetings   kind  requite  me. 

In  alien  lands  I  roved  a  poet, 
And  was  fain  to  see  the  best: 
But  may  evil  take  me   ere  I   know   it, 
If  my  heart  could  be  there  at  rest : 
And  why  should  I  be  pleading 
For  what  I  knew  were  wrong?  - 
Nay,  foreign  ways  have  never  pleased  me  long  — 
The  best  of  all  is  German  breeding. 

From  the  Elbe  to  the  Rhine 
And  thence  to  Hungary, 
'Tis  there  these  eyes  of  mine 
Did  the  fairest  ladies  see; 
And,  unless  my  judgment  betrayed  is, 
For  mien  and  beauty  clear, 
So  help   me  God  above,  the   women   here, 
Are  better  than  all  foreign  ladies.2 

1)  Cf.  31,  50. 

2)  Mr  Nicholson    makes    Walther    give    the  palm    to   Hungarian    ladies!      He 
translates : 

There,  from  Elbe  to  Rhine  and  then 
Back  once  more  here  to  Hungarian  ground, 
Surely  dwell  the  best  of  men 
That  in  all  the  world  I  yet  have  found. 
Sweet  ways  and  fair  faces,  — 
If  I'm  judge  of  both 

Women  here  are  better,  I  will  take  my  oath, 
Than  they  are  in  other  places. 
I  follow    VVilmanns  in  reading  "die  besten  (frouwen)". 


—     77     — 

German  men  to  honour  are  moulded ; 
Our  women  are   as  angels  bright: 
He  who  blames  them  is  blindfolded, 
Or  his  senses  are  not  right. 
Love  that  leadeth  virtue  by  the   hand, 
Whosoever  seeketh  these 

Let  him  come  to  us:  we  have  all  things  that  please. 
May  my  days  be  long  in  the  German  land ! 

19. 

Sorrow  with  pleasure  never   blended, 
What  man  would  bear  it  and  be  dumb? 
Were  gentle  breeding  not  offended, 
I  would  cry  out:   "O  Fortune,  come!" 
But  Fortune  would  not  hear: 
They  to  the  jade  are  seldom  dear 
Who  are  the  soul  of  honour:     . 
Then  how  should  I  prevail  upon  her? 

Their  meagre  gains  I  have  descried 
Daily,  on  honour  who  rely: 
And  that  with  honour  I  abide, 
The  more  a  fool  am  I. 
— .     With   the   old  truthful  ways 
One  is  as  buried  nowadays ; 
Honour  and  wealth  accrue 
Only  to  those   that   evil   do. 

That  men  are  mostly  evil-doers 
Now,  the  women  are  the  cause: 
Blessed  were  the   noble   wooers, 
When  honour  had  ladies'  applause. 
In  old  society 
We  courted  with  propriety: 
Alas,  now  it  is  plain, 
With  impropriety  their  love   ye   gain. 

For  now  when  I  to  ladies  go  — 
I  heave  for  this   my  deepest  sigh  — 
The  greater  decency  I  show, 
, —     The  less  a  courtier  am  I.1 

l)  Cf.  42,    15  seq. 


Decorum  they  waft  hence  - 

Except  the  rare  ones  with  some  sense 

Endowed:  and  her  I  would  not  vex 

Who  is  ashamed  of  ali  that  shames  her   sex. 

Honourable   men  and  women  pure  - 
May  all  that  breathe   right  happy  be ! 
If  I  in  aught  can  serve  them,  sure 
I   will,  that  they   think  well   of  me. 
And  I  bid  them  meanwhile  know, 
Unless   the  world  soon  better   grow 
That  I  intend  to  give 
My  singing  up,  and  live  --  as  I  can  live.1 

20. 

"Woman"  must  ever  be  a  woman's   noblest  name,2 

And  honours  more  than  "lady",  rf  I  am  not  wrong. 

They  that  of  their  womanhood  have   shame, 

Should  reconsider  when  they  hear  my   song. 

As  women,  ladies  oft  are  bad : 

But  all  the  women  must  be  good  you   meet ; 

Women  and  woman's  name  are  clad 

In  old-world  honour  dear  and  sweet. 

Howsoever  all  ladies  fare, 

A  woman  is  a  lady  anywhere. 

In   doubtful  praise  lurks   scorn, 

As  oft  in  "lady" ;  but  woman's  name  a  woman  must  adorn. 

21. 

O  noble  lady  much  admired, 
It  would  beseem  you  kind  to  be! 
It  harms  you  not  to  be  desired ;  * 
And  thoughts,  I  fancy,  yet  are  free. 
I  would  let  all  men  for  what  they  covet  sigh. 

And  if  my  mind  to  you  inclines, 
How  can  1  help  it?     You  I  sing, 

1)  "so  ich  nu  beste  mac":  perhaps  =  it  will  be  a  poor  sort  of  life,  for  "there 
is  no  lust  like  poetry!"    Cf.  Grillparzer:  "Wenn  der  Dichter  uber  Bord  geht,  schicke 
ich  ihm  den  Menschen  nach."     Cf.  H.  v.  M.,  XVIII,   189 — 190,   206. 

2)  Cf.  Wilm.,  33,   18;  MF,   165,  28. 

3)  Cf.  Waller,   "Suffer  herself  to  be  desired"  in  poem  known  of  all  men. 


—     79     — 

Though  you  despise  the  pondered  lines. 

To  me  the  verses  profit  bring; 

Ye  at  court  are  praised,  and  honour  is  awarded  me. 

A   splendid  raiment   is   on   you ! 
A  better   never   lady  bad 
Than  on  your  stainless  limbs  I  view: 
You  are  a  woman  nobly  clad. 

Fair  embroidered,  fortune  and  good  sense  are  there. 

I  take  no  cast-off  finery,1 
Yet  for  your  robes  my  life  I'd  quit ; 
And  the  Emperor  would  a  fiddler  be 
For  such  a  guerdon  exquisite! 
Play  O  Kaiser!  —  No,  not  here,  elsewhere  you  may. 

22. 

Laudator  temporis  acti.2 

Whatever  be  my  faults,3  one  quality 
I  have  been  fain  from  childhood's  days  to  keep: 
I  can  join  in  not  unseemly  jollity, 
And  I  am  loth  to  laugh  when  others  weep. 
For  others'  sake  I  grieve: 
For  others'  sake  I   sorrow; 
Though  sorrow  to  me  cleave, 
What  matter!  joy  I  borrow. 
As  others  are,  so  will  I  be, 
That  they  grow  not  tired  of  me. 
Some  there  are  with  no  compassion 
For  others'  pains :  let  them  be  treated  in  like  fashion. 

1)  "Gold,    silver,    horses,   and   clothes"    (Wilm.,  51,   12)   were   given- to   the 
wandering   minstrels   of  a  poorer  type  than  Walther.     Cf.  HMS.   2,  263 1>:  ';He  that 
craveth   cast-off  clothing  Is  the  Minnesinger's  loathing".     But  it  is  clear  from  83,  96 
that  Walther  accepted  new  clothes;  indeed  a  document  has  come  to  light  which  shows 
that  he  accepted  5  solidi  from  the  Bishop  of  Passau  to  buy  him  a  fur  coat. 

2)  So  is  v.  Veldeke,  one  of  the  earliest  Minnesingers  (MF,  61,   18 — 24). 

3)  Cf.  37,   i  seq.: 

"If  I  must  praise  myself,  why  then, 

Unchivalrous  I  cannot  be, 

For  I  endure  injustice,  when 

I  might  take  vengeance  easily. 

An  eremite  would  he  endure  it?     No,  I  ween." 


_     8o     — 


In  the  good  old  days,  when  love  and  honour  ruled, 
My  youthful  songs  were  ever  smooth  and  cheery: 
But  now  that  love  and  honour  are  befooled, 
My  songs,  alas !  are  rugged  grown  and  dreary. 
According  as  things  be, 
The  real  poet  sings: 
Not  till  boorishness  shall  flee 
Will   I   sing  of  courtly  things. 
Joy  will  return  and  a  day  for  song: 
Happy  who  can  wait  so  long. 
If  you  will  only  take  my  word, 
I  know  the  way  and  when  a  poet  should  be  heard. 

For  a  bare  greeting  I  did  praise  the  ladies/ 
And  took  it  as  the  payment  of  my  praise : 
But  now  I  wait  in  vain  till  my  song  paid  is  — 
Let  another  laud,  if  any  lady  pays. 
Since  I  no  more  can  earn 
With  all  my  songs  their  smile, 
A  proud  man  I  will  turn 
My  back  on  them  the  while: 
Which  signifies:  "As  thou  to  me, 
Lady,  so  am  I  to  thee." 
Grateful  ladies,  not  the  crowd 
My  song  shall  praise:  what  profit  me  the  overproud? 

I  will  tell  you  of  my  common  harm  and  shame  — 
Ladies  compare  with  scant  discrimination.2 
For  them  the  good  and  bad  men  are  the  same : 

i)  Cf.  MF,  86,   19  —  20;   Walt.,  Paul  5,   10;    6,  38;    8.  34;  Wilm.,   i,  23; 


/-He 
(       W 


52,   16.     "bien  heureux  D'en  avoir  settlement  un  regard  amoureux" 
2)  Cf.  Wilm.,  71,  41  seq.: 

Lord  God,  what  manner  man  is  he 
Serves  not,  but  loves  without  delay! 

ere  a  he,  and  there  a  she:  -->. 

Who  so  would  love,  damn  him!  I  say. 
^WhaTTiaIh~He"lof  nis  liTre  To  stow?"" 
A  noble  lady  loves  not  so. 
Good  manners  in  her  estimate  she  reckons, 
And  parts  good  men  from  bad  with  ease. 
A  foolish  lady  it  doth  please 
To  have  a  fool  to  follow  when  she  beckons. 
Also  Wilm.,  31,  51  —  55. 


(Ronsard). 


—     8i      — 

So  the  good  men  are  debased  from  their  high  station. 

When  dames  again  shall  learn 

To  sort  the  men,  that  they 

Be  sorted  in  their  turn, 

Love  will  the  more  repay. 

What  were  bad,  and  what  were  good, 

If  none  distinguish  could? 

Noble  ladies,  pray  you  think: 

If  women  all  are  equal,  then  your  worth  will   sink. 

23. 

Alack  the  day,   O   courtly  singing, 
That  you  at  court  must  yield 
To  the  base  tunes  that  boors  are  bringing 
From   stubble  and  corn-field! 
Alas,  your  friends  are   all  undone 
That  so  your  honour  lieth  low: 
But  since  it  must  be,  be  it  so  — 
Dame  Doggerel,  you  have  won. 

Who   brought  our  noble  pleasure   back 
That  is  a  fugitive, 

Our  grateful  thanks  he  should  not  lack, 
And  lauded  he  should  live. 
Who  shall  do  it  hath  a  courtly  mind, 
And  I  will  pray  that  he  succeed  - 
For  lord  or  dame  a  seemly  deed  — 
Alas  that  none  are  so  inclined! 

There  are   more  of  those  who   hold 
The  new  hath  ne'er  a  flaw, 
Than  of  those  who  listen  to  the  old. 
I  follow  the  ancient  saw: 
My  strings  I  strike  not  at  the  mill.1 
Where  the  noisy  stone  goes  round  and  round 
And  discords  by  the  wheel  are  ground, 
I  harp  not :  who  are  they  who  will  ? 

And  the  brazen  jugglers  whose  clangour 
Duns  in  my  deafened  ears : 
To  them  the  din  that  stirs  my  anger 

i)  Cf.  CB,  37,  3- 

Bithell     The  Minnesingers.     I.  6 


—       82        — 

Is   music   of  the   spheres. 
They  are  like  the  frogs  in  the  green  moat, 
That   sing  with  such  a  right  good  will 
The  nightingale  grows  sad   and  still, 
With  the  songs   trembling  in  her  throat.1 

If  Doggerel  by  force  were  hushed, 
Of  joy  should  yet  be  sung. 
If  she  were  o'er  the  drawbridge  pushed, 
It  would  loosen  many  a  tongue. 
If  palaces  on  her  were  shut, 
My  joy  of  it  would  be  no  sin: 
But  let  the  farmers  take  her  in, 
It  is  from  them  she   came,   the  slut ! 

24. 

Elegy  on  Rein  mar  von  Hagenau. 
Take  him  for  all  in  all. 

Beauty,  youth,  and  wit,  and  merit 
Are  things  that  no  man  can  inherit, 
Alas !  when  the  frail  body  perisheth. 
And  a  wise  man,  who  can  conceive 
The  loss,  may  with  good  reason  grieve 
For  all  that  Art  must  suffer  by  thy  death. 
But  we  should  thank  thee  now  and  evermore 
That  thou  didst  never  let  a  day  pass  o'er, 
But  thou  wouldst  praise  the  ways  of  women  good  and  true. 
For  this  we  will  be  grateful  to  thy  tongue. 
If  thou  no  other  line  but  this  hadst  sung: 
"What  sweetness  into  that  old  word  'woman'  grew!" 
All  women's  prayers  for  thy  soul's  welfare  would  to  thee  be  due 

Truth  is  it,  Reinmar,  I  mourn  thee 
Much  deeper  than  thou  wouldest  me, 
If  thou  wert  living  and  myself  were  dead. 
I  say  it  as  I  hope  for  bliss, 
Thyself  I   should  but  little  miss, 
I  mourn  thy  noble  art  now  ruined. 

1)  Cf.  Freid.   142,  9  — 10: 

"The  nightingale  holds  back  her  lays, 

When  the  ox  bellows  and  the  donkey  brays." 

2)  See  p.  48,  7. 


Thou  couldst  upon  itself  increase  delight, 
When  thou  didst  soar  to  thy  full  spirit's  height. 

mourn  thy  mouth  that  spake  so  well,  and  thy   sweet   song, 
'hat  these  before  my  time  is  full  are  ta'en. 
:  thou  hadst  tarried  but  a  little,  fain' 
would  have  been  to  go  with  thee  along. 
Have  thanks,  and  may  thy  soul  fare  well  among  the  angels'  throng. 

j     25. 

If  Winter  comes,  can  Spring  be  far  behind?  - 

Mope  not  in  secret,  growing  glummer! 
Think  on  good  women,  be  no  more  aggrieved. 
Look  to  the  coming  days   of  summer! 
These  are  the  thoughts  by  which   I  am   relieved. 
I  am  sad  when  the  winter's  dark  o'er  all  is  shed; 
But  I  turn  to  the  faded  heath, 
Shamed  of  its  widow's  weeds  cold   skies  beneath ; 
Yet  when  it  sees  the  forest  green  it  flushes  red.1 

Lady,  when  my  mind  sojourneth 
With   all   thy   charms  and   merit   love-compelling, 
Halt !   I  cry :  thine  arrow  burneth 
Mid  in  my  heart  where  love   has   made  his  dwelling. 
Dear  and  dearer  is  not  what  I   mean : 
Thou   art   my  very  own : 
My  dearest  is  thyself  alone, 
As  all  the  world,  O  lady,  seeth  and  hath  seen. 

26.2 

I  will  distribute,  ere  my  life  is  ended, 
All  my  goods  and  chattels, 
That  only  they  for  whom  these  are  intended 
Need  wage  their  legal  battles. 
My  bad  luck  to  sour  haters  I  bequeath; 
And  unto  those  whose  hearts  with  envy  seethe 

1)  Cf.  Keats's  poem  In  a  drear-nighted  December;  Geibel's  Und  draut 
er  Winter  noch  so  sehr;  Shakespeare's  son.  When  in  disgrace  with  fortune 
nd  men's  eyes;   MF,    140,    36  —  37;    Wilm.,    75,    I  seq.;    36,    4  and  8;   41;    84, 
48  —  50.     Wack.,  Kl.  Sch.,  I,  p.  149. 

2)  Cf.  Gaudeamus  (Leipzig,  1879,  p.  189).    Perhaps  Walther's  poem  suggested 
Heine's  " Vermachtnis"?     Donne.  "The  Will". 

6* 


_     84     - 

The  evil  star  under  whose  rule  I  sighed ; 

My  melancholy 

To  brazen  liars;  and  my  folly 

To  lovers  hollow, 

Whom  groans  of  maids  abandoned  follow; 

To  ladies   my  heart's  longing  never   satisfied. 

—  But  bide  a  little,  I  am  coming  back! 
Now  I  know  what  women  need  — 
I  have  learned  the  secret  I  before  did  lack, 
And  I  will  win  them  so:  —  give  heed!  — 
I  will  forswear  my  body  and  my  soul : 1 
Not  one  before  me  will  be  then  heart-whole !  — 
But  Heaven  preserve  me,  what  is  this  I  say? 
God  would  deliver 

Such  doom  upon  me  in  the  thought  I  shiver!  — 
My   eyes  would  tumble 
Out  of  my  head,   and   I   should   stumble 
Blind  about  and  helpless  in  the  light  of  day! 

27. 

Dame  World,  go  to  mine  host 2  and  say 
I've  paid  his  reckoning. 
Let  him  erase  my  name  straightway: 
I  do  not  owe  him  anything. 
Who  owes  him  aught  hath  cause  to  rue. 
Rather  than  owe  him  long  I'd  borrow  from  a  Jew. 
He  is  silent  till  a  certain  day: 
Then  he  will  have  his  pledge,  if  the  victim  cannot  pay. 

—  "Walther,  you  have  no  cause  for  ire: 
Tarry  beside  me  still! 

I  decked  you  so  men  mote  admire; 

And  ever  yielded  you  your  will, 

Even  as  often  as  you  pleaded, 

Pained  only  that  my  pleasure  sweet  you  seldom  needed. 

Think   of  your   life  delightful;   for 

Your  heart  will  bleed,  if  you  do  challenge  me  to  war." 

—  Dame  World,  your  milk  I  will  not  drink: 
Tis  time  that  I  were  weaned! 

1)  Cf.  83,   123—124. 

2)  i.  e.,  the  Devil.     Cf.  poem  by  Der  Guoter,  p.  173,  and  H.  v.  M.,  XXIX. 


—    85    — 

Your  sweets   have  brought   me  to   Hell's  brink, 

And  nigh  into  the  clutches  of  the   Fiend. 

When  in  your  eyes  I  looked,  I  saw 

Your  beauty  was   delightful,  with  no   single   flaw : 

But  all  the  sight  was  vile 

Behind  your  back,  and  I  abhor  you  for  your  guile. 

-  "If  thou  must  go,  and  wilt  not  stay, 
Grant  but  this  one  request: 
Remember  many  a  merry  day, 
And  come  at  times  to  be  my  guest  — 
For  now  your  days  will  drag  perhaps." 
That  I  would  gladly  do  —  but  that  I  fear  your  traps, 
With  which  you  seek  all  men  to  snare. 
God  give  you  good  den,  lady,  I  to  rest  will  fare ! * 

28. 

Can  any  living  man  maintain 

That  e'er  he  saw  a  thicker  rain 

Of  gifts  than  lately  in  Vienna  town? 

The  young  prince  was   seen  to  give 

As  if  he  thought  not  long  to  live,2 

And  by  largesse  would  earn  renown. 

He  did  not  stay  at  thirty  pound : 

He  scattered  silver   as   if  it  were  found 

In  the  streets;  and  to  the  minstrels  for  their  meed 

He  gave   the  garments   in   his   wardrobe   stored; 

And  bade  them  take  the  provender 

Besides  the  horse :  as  lambs  they  were, 

Each  from  the  royal  stable  took  his  steed. 

Then  no  one  paid  the  debts   he  owed: 

Kind  was  the  prince  who  so  decreed. 

29. 

Awake!     The  day  is  coming  now 

That  brings  the   sweat   of  anguish   to  the  brow 

Of  Christians,  Jews,   and  Pagans  all! 

Many  a  token  in  the   sky 

1)  Cf.  42,^8  seq. 

2)  Cf.  Freid.  58,   I. 


—     86     — 

And  on  the  earth  shows  it  is  nigh : 

Foretold  in  Holy  Writ  withal. 

The  sun  no  longer  shows 

His  face ;  and  treason   sows 

His  secret  seeds  that  no  man  can  detect; 

Fathers  by  their  children  are  undone; 

The  brother  would  the  brother  cheat; 

And  the  cowled  monk  is  a  deceit, 

Who   should  the  way  to   Heaven   direct; 

Might  is   right,  and  justice  there   is  none. 

Arise !  we  slept,  nor  of  the  peril  recked. 

30.1 

He  that  fearless  says  Thy  ten 

Commandments,   Lord,   and   breaks    them   then 

His  heart   is  not   to  Thee  inclined. 

He  that  cries  "Father"  to  thee, 

But  whose  brother  I  may  not  be, 

He  speaks  strong  words  with  a  weak  mind. 

—  All  are  descendants  of  a  clod; 

All  shall  be  clay  again  beneath  the  sod. 

With  the  same  food  ourselves  we  fatten 

Till  the  worms  on  us  shall  batten. 

Who,  that  knew  them  erst,  shall  scan 

Which  is  master,  which  is  man, 

If  he  see  their  bones 

Cleaner  than  river-polished   stones? 

—  He  who  rules  the  world  by  wonder, 
Creed  from  creed  He  does  not  sunder: 
All  are  soldiers  in   His  ban  — 
Christian,  Jew,  Mahometan. 

31. 

When  Frederick  of  Austria  had  the  wit 
To  save  the  soul  that  did  his  body  quit, 
My  crane's  step  was  humbled  to  the  earth. 
Slinking  I  went  like  a  peacock  2  that  has  shed 
His  feathers,  to  my  knee  I  hung  my  head : 
But  now  I  stretch  it  up  to  my  full  worth. 

1)  In  this  poem  I  have  not  kept  the  metre  of  the  original. 

2)  Cf.  Freid.   142,   13. 


-     87      - 

Heigh-ho!     To  the  fiddle  who  will  dance  a  measure? 

For  I  can  seat  me  at  mine  own  fire-side ; 

To  the  Emperor  and  the  Crown  I  am  allied : 

My  melancholy  I  can  baulk: 

Now  like  a  knight  of  substance  I  can  walk, 

And  let  my  spirits  bubble  up  to  pleasure ! * 

32. 

Whose  ears  are  sore,  I  rede  him  to  keep  free 

From  the  Thuringian  court  with  its  wild  glee : 

If  he  go  there,  his  wits  will  gather  wool. 

I  am  tired  of  elbowing  the  crowd  about : 

By  night  and  day  one  troop  goes  in,  another  out ; 

That  any  hear  at  all  is  wonderful. 

The  Landgrave  in  this   delights : 

To   spend   his   substance   with  proud   knights, 

And  everyone  a  champion  in  the  land. 

So  generous  is  he,  though  men  should  ask 

For  good  wine  a  thousand  pounds  the  cask, 

Never  would  a  knight's  glass   empty  stand. 

33. 

Her  door£s  sparr&d  all! 

Fortune's  door  on  me  is   locked ; 

It  hath  not  helped  for  all  I  knocked: 

Like  an  orphan  there  I  call. 

What  miracle  can  greater  be  ? 

It  rains  to  right  and  left  of  me, 

But  not  a  drop  on  me  will  fall.2 

The  largesse  of  Austria's  ruler 

Is  summer  rain  that  maketh  cooler 

When  parched  are  people  and  land. 

He  is  a  mead  with  blossoms  bright 

That  all  men  gather :   and  if  I 

Could  have  one  leaf,  then  I  would  try 

To  laud  with  songs  that  pleasant  sight. 

I  make  my  presence  known  here-by. 

1)  Cf.  Wilm,  3,  34. 

2)  Cf.  MF,   21,  5  seq.;   23,    13  seq.;   29,   13  seq. 


34.1 

Justice  is  fleemyt  frae  the  land. 

v  On  a  stone  I  sate,  all  lost 

In  my  thoughts,  with  both  legs  crossed; 

On  the  uppermost   did   rest 

I  my  elbow,  and  caressed 

With  my  hand  my  chin  and  cheek; 

Pondered  I:  what  should  one  seek 

As  the  best  things  here  below? 

But  no  counsel  I  did  know 

How  on  three  things  hand  to  lay 

That  are  slow  to  melt  away. 

Two  are  gold  and  honour:  these 

Are  together  ill  at  ease ; 

And  God's  grace  the  third  I  call, 

Greatest  treasure  of  them  all. 

In  one  casket  all  the  three 

I  would  have,  if  it  could  be : 

But  no  human  heart  will  hold 

God's  grace,  honour,  store  of  gold.2 

Closed  to  them  are  ways  and  gates, 

While   in   ambush  treason   waits ; 

From  the  high  roads  law  is  fled; 

Peace  and  justice  nigh  are  dead; 

Helpless  must  the  three  remain, 

Till  the  two  their  health  regain. 

1)  For   the   explanation   of  the   political   poems   here   given,   it   is   necessary  to 
keep   in   mind   the   state  of  affairs  in  Germany  during   the   period   between    the   death 
of  the  Emperor  Henry  VI  in   1197,   and   the   abdication    of  Otto  in    1215.      Henry's 
ambition   had   been  to  make  the  imperial  dignity  hereditary  in  his  family;  and  during 
his  own  lifetime  he  had  caused  the  Electors  to  acknowledge  his  son  Frederick  as  the 
future  Emperor;  but  in   1197  the  young  prince  was  only  three  years  of  age,  and  the 
Ghibellines  offered  the  purple  to  Philip,  Duke  of  Swabia,  who,  as  Frederick's  guardian, 
had  the  insignia  in  his  possession.     But  the  Guelphic  party  set  up  in  opposition  Otto 
of  Poitou,   or  Brunswick,   the  nephew   and  protege  of  Richard  of  England;   and   him 
Pope  Innocent  III  (1198 — 1216)  supported,  in   return   for  concessions   to  the  Church, 
until  their  quarrel  in  1209,   when  Otto   repudiated   the   conditions   he   had   agreed  to, 
and   was   promptly    excommunicated.     The  Pope   then   (1211)    secured    the   election    of 
Frederick,    but  Otto   held   his   ground   until,    in   1214,   he  and  his  ally  King  John  of 
England    were  completely   defeated  at   Bouvines,    after   which   disaster   Frederick   was 
left  without  a  rival. 

2)  Cf.    Spanish    proverb:    "honra    y    provecho   no   caben  en   un   saco".     LD, 
LXXIX,   231  seq. 


35. 

Lupus  est  homo  homini. 

I  heard  a  river  roar 
As  onwards  with  the  fish  it  tore; 
I  saw  all  that  the  world  breeds, 
Field  and  wood,  grass,  leaves,  and  reeds; 
What  crawls,  what  flieth  fleet, 
What  walketh  upon  feet:  — 
I  saw  it  all,  and  true  it  is: 
They  all  are  enemies.1 
Beast  of  chase,   and  crawling  worm 
Fight  stark  battles   fierce   and  firm: 
So  the  birds,  too,  in  their  kind; 
But  all  these  creatures  have  one   mind  — 
Life  would  seem  too  insecure 
If  they  had  not  judgment  sure. 
Laws  they  make,  and  kings  anoint, 
Lord  and  vassal  they  appoint. 
Woe  to  thee,  O  German  race, 
Thy  rule  is  in  an  evil  case : 
For  while  the  midge  has  her  own  king, 
Thine  olden  honour  is  withering! 
Germany,  O  turn  again! 
The  coronets  2  are  grown  too  vain : 
The  pauper  kings  are  elbowing  thee; 
Crown    Philip    with    the    Orphan,    and    quickly    they 
will  flee! 

36. 

Before  mine  eyes  there  were  unfurled 
All  secrets  of  the  living  world; 

i)  Cf.  Keats  "Reminiscences  of  Claude's  Enchanted  Castle";  Swift  "On  Poetry": 
"Hobbes  clearly  proves  that  every  creature  Lives  in  a  state  of  war  by  nature",  etc.; 
do.  uOn  a  Printer's  being  sent  to  Newgate";  "Nature  red  in  tooth  and  claw  With 
ravine",  In  Memoriam,  canto  LVI;  Thos.  Hardy,  uln  a  Wood". 

2]  The  three  claimants  to  the  imperial  crown,  Otto  of  Poitou,  Bernhard  of 
Saxony,  and  Berthold  of  Zahringen,  the  last  of  whom  sold  his  claim  to  Philip  for 
1 1, ooo  marks.  Otto  was  actually  crowned  by  his  own  party,  but  not  with  the  real 
crown,  which  contained  the  ''Orphan",  "lapis  qui  in  corona  Romani  imperatoris  est, 
neque  umquam  alibi  visus  est:  propter  quod  etiam  orphanus  vocatur"  (Albertus  Mag- 
nus). Philip's  coronation,  to  which  poem  37  refers,  took  place  in  September  1198 
at  Mentz. 


—     90      — 

From  eyes  and  ears  was  nothing  hid 
Of  all  men  spake,  of  all  men  did. 
I  heard  them  lying  in  Rome  town, 
To  cheat  two  kings  of  realm  and  crown: 
Thence   the   greatest  strife   began 
In  the  memory  of  man: 
When  priest  and  layman  parted 
In  anger,  and  to  weapons  darted: 
Misfortune  in  misfortune's  wake, 
Soul  and  body  both  at  stake ; 
Although  the  shavelings  struggled  sore, 
Of  the  laymen  there  were  more. 
But  when  the  sword  in  scabbard  lay, 
Then  the  stole  kept  up  the  fray; 
They  laid  the  ban  on  every  one 
Except  on  whom  they  should  have  done. 
Church   and   convent  were   profaned ; 
Bitterly  a  monk  complained, 
Comfortless  in  his  cold  cell, 
Weeping  loud,  as  I  heard  well; 
From  his  heart  the  cry  did  come: 
"Alas,  the  Pope  is  but  a  youth :  help,  O  Lord,  thy 
Christendom !" 

37. 

The  crown  is  older  than  King  Philip!     Lies 
Not  here  a  miracle  before  our  eyes? 
The  smith  has  done  so  well  his  duty, 
The  crown  fits  the  imperial  head  so  true 
That  no  good  man  would  separate  the  two; 
And  the  one  sets  off  the  other's  beauty. 
Each  strengthens   each  in  sooth, 
The  noble  jewel  and  the  noble  youth. 
In  ecstasy  the  Princes  are! 
Let  him  who  here  and  there  for  Kaiser  turns, 
Behold  upon  whose  head  the  Orphan  burns : 
The  stone  is  all  the  Princes'  polar-star! 

38. 

On  the  day  the  Virgin  to  our  Lord  gave  birth, 
Who  had  chosen  her  His  mother  on  the  earth, 


King  Philip  nobly  walked  in  Magdeburg  town. 

There  was  an  Emperor's  brother  and  an  Emperor's  son  - 

Three  titles,  though  the  person  one: 

He  bore  the  imperial  sceptre  and  the  crown. 

He  walked  with  measured  steps  1  and  noble  mien, 

And  slowly  followed  him  a  high-born  Queen  — 

Rose  without  thorn,  dove  without  gall. 

There  courtliness  her  triumphs  did  reveal: 

The  Saxons  and  Thuringians  showed  such  zeal 2 

That  mightily  were  pleased  the  statesmen  all. 

39." 

Let  us  rede  the  cooks  not  to  forget  - 

It  behoves  them  to  beware, 

Lest  in  evil  plight  they  fall  — 

That  the  roast  before  the  Princes  set 

Shall  be  big  enough  for  all  to  share, 

And  thicker  than  my  thumb  withal. 

A  roast  was  hacked  in  Grecian  lands 

By  greedy  hands 

Fit  to  be  manacled  with  iron  bands. 

There  was  not  beef  for  all,  and  so 

The  guests  out  of  his  own  door  throw 

The  host,  and  straight  to  new  election  go. 

That  host 

Had  better  ne'er  have  had  the  roast. 

40. 

Now  in  the  generous  Landgrave's  halls  1  rest: 
It  was  e'er  my  habit  to  be  with  the  best. 
All  other  princes  give,  but  not  like  him, 
Still  as  he  hath  done,  subject  to  no  whim. 
Surer  than  theirs  his  boon: 

i)  CB,  65,  2  "equis  passibus". 

2]  Duke  Bernhard  of  Saxony  carried  the  imperial  sword.  Hermann  of  Thuringia, 
who  was  present,  had  abandoned  Otto's  cause. 

3)  Refers  to  the  Latin  conquest  of  Constantinople  (1204),  in  the  course  of  which 
Philip's  father-in-law  and  brother-in-law  lost  their  lives.  The  moral  is  pointed  at  Philip 
himself,  who  was  too  close-fisted. 


—     92     — 

He  changeth  with  no  moon. 

He  that  is  prodigal  this  year,  and  in  the  next  one  mean, 
His  praise  will  yellow  like  the  clover's  green: 
Thuringia's  flower  through  the  thick  snow  is  seen, 
And  Hermann's  praises  blossom  in  December  and  in  June. 

41. 

A  necromancer  holds  the  Roman  chair  — 

In  the  black  art  Pope  Gerbert's  *  heir. 

But  Gerbert  gave  none  but  himself  to  Hell: 

This  one  will  give  all  Christendom  as  well. 

Why  cry  not  all,  out  of  their  sorrow  deep, 

To  Heaven,  and  ask  how  long  the  Lord  will  sleep? 

Priests  foil  His  works,  and  to  His  words  false  witness  bear; 

His  treasurer  steals  the  hoard  of  grace  given  in  his  care ; 

His  peace-maker  plunders  here  and  murders  there ; 

His  shepherd  has  become  a  wolf  among  His  sheep. 

42. 

Ye  Princes  of  the  Church,  ye  are  cheated  by  the  Pope. 
Lo,  he  has  bound  you  with  the  Devil's  rope! 
If  what  you  say  of  Peter's  keys  be  facts, 
Why  does  he  scratch  St.  Peter's  teaching  from  the   Acts  ? 
Our  Christian  faith  forbids  us,  clear  and  plain, 
To  barter  the  Lord's  bounty  for  vile  gain. 
Such  doctrine  haply  does  the  black  book  teach 
The  devil  gave  the  Pope,  and  bade  him  preach? 

-  Cardinals,  roof  your  churches,  we  beseech: 
Lo,  our  High  Altar  drippeth  with  the  rain! 

43. 

Aha!  how  like  a  Christian  the  Pope  of  us  makes  fun, 
When  he  to  his  Italians  explains  what  he  has  done! 
What  there  he  speaks  should  never  have  been  thought; 
He  says:  "Two  Germans  underneath  one  crown  I  brought 
To  fire  and  waste  the  Empire  East  and  West : 

i)  Gerbert  =  Sylvester  II  (999 — 1003).  On  account  of  his  devotion  to  ma- 
thematics and  chemistry,  he  was,  like  Faust,  held  to  be  a  magician,  and  he  too, 
according  to  the  legend,  was  bodily  spirited  away  by  the  Devil. 


—     93     — 

And  all  the  while  I  fill  my  chest ! 

I  have  driven  them  to  my  savings-box:  their  goods  are  mine: 

Their  German  coins  in  my  Italian  coffers  shine :  — 

Ye  priests,  eat  fowls,  drink  wine ! 

And  let  the  German stomachs  rest. 

44. 

Sir  Savings-Box,1  hath  the  Pope  sent  you  with  his  sermons 

To  enrich  himself  and  beggar  all  the  Germans? 

Soon  as  the  heaps  of  money  he  shall  hold 

A  fine  trick  he  will  play — his  trick  of  old: 

He  will  say  the  Empire's  in  a  parlous  state  — 

And  with  our  money  will  again  be  satiate. 

Ah!  little  of  the  silver  will  reach  the  Holy  Land: 

Rich  treasure   seldom  gives  away  priest's  hand. 

Sir  Box,  to  rob  us  right  and  left  is  your  command, 

And  to  cozen  all  the  fools  that  take  the  bait. 

45. 

How  seldom  I  praise  God,  Whose  praises  fill 

The  world !     O  Thou  Who  gavest  me  my  tuneful  skill 

How  can  I  dare  to  brave  Thine  anger  still? 

I  do  not  the  right  works,  have  no  right  love 

For  my  fellow-Christians,  Father,  nor  for  Thee: 

Dear  as  myself  is  none  on  earth  to  me. 

Father  and  Son,  instruct  me  with  Your  Holy  Dove! 

How  can  I  love  the  man  who  works  me  pain? 

Needs  must  I  love  him  more  whose  love  is  plain. 

Forgive  my  other  sins,  this  I  retain.2 

46. 

My  outcast  state. 

"I  thank  thee,  host!"     Me  no  man  greeteth  so: 
"Be  welcome,  guest!'''     I  thanking  bow  full  low. 

1)  Innocent  III  ordered,  in  1213,  that  "trunci"  should  be  placed  in  the  churches 
for  the  collection  of  contributions  for  a  crusade. 

2)  Cf.  Freid.  97,  16;  LD,  LI,  81 — 82.     MF,  90,  10  —  15: 

"There  is  no  mortal  sin  upon  my  mind 

Save  one  which  cannot  be  resigned  — 

Of  this  I  never  shall  be  free: 

I  love  a  lady  more  than  my  salvation. 

O  Lord,  let  this  not  be  my  soul's  damnation!" 


—     94 

"Host"  and  "home"  are  names  with  no  disgrace. 

"Guest"  and  "hostelry"  bring  shame  into  one's  face. 

Could  I  but  live  my  guests  to  entertain, 

And  proudly  as  their  host  their  thanks  to  gain! 

"Here  to-day  and  gone  to-morrow,"  so  are  clowns  inclined; 

"I  am  at  home,"  "I  wend  me  home"  soothe  more  the  mind. 

Guest  and  check  a  welcome  rarely  find. 

Spare  me  the  guest  that  by  God's  grace  the  check  from  you 

remain. 

47.1 

Fortune  distributes  boons :  but  not 
To  me :  I  only  see  her  back. 
She  pities  me  no  jot: 
I  know  not  what  to  do.  alack! 
She  will  not  look  me  in  the  face,  confound  her! 
I  am  behind  her  still  if  I  run  round  her : 
She  loathes  my  very  sight: 
I  wish  her   eyes  were  in   her  back  to    see   me    in   her    own 

despite ! 

48.2 

He  drinks  not  well  who  cannot  thirst  control. 
Can  it  be  manly  that  the  tongue  should  loll? 
The  drunkard  courts  the  ruin  of  his  soul. 
It  would  become  him  more  his  feet  to  use 

1)  LD,  LI,  12  —  20: 

uDame  Fortune  is  far  shyer  than  a  roe, 

And  is  besides  my  bitter  foe. 

Always  in  her  footsteps  I  am  running, 

But  soon  as  ever  I  draw  close  to  her, 

She  plies  her  heels,  and  foils  pursuit  with  cunning." 

Walt.,  32,  29:  Reinmar  von  Zweter  7,  and  Heine  ("Das  Gliick  ist  eine  leichte  Dime"): 
"Luck  is  the  lightest  of  young  misses, 

And  the  most  restless:  from  your  eyes 

She  strokes  the  hair  away,  and  kisses 

You  quickly,  and  away  she  flies. 

But  Mother  Bad- Luck  does  not  worry: 

Close  she  caresses  you,  and  sits   — 

She  says  she  is  not  in  a  hurry  — 

Down  by  your  very  bed,  and  knits." 
(Heine  seems  to  have  repeated  himself  in  "Frau  Sorge".) 

2)  Cf.  Reinm.  v.  Z.,  Roethe  in;  H.  v.  M.,  p.  228. 


—     95     — 

To  keep  him  standing  than  to  need  support. 

Or  be  a  log  that  pitying  friends  transport. 

When  thirst  is  quenched,  another  glass  refuse, 

Lest  mortally  ye  sin,  and  be  a  jest; 

For  he  who  drinks  till  God  and  all  the  rest 

He  knows  no  more,  has   God's  command  transgressed. 

49. 

I   measured  Otto  by  his  length : 1  but  by 
That  reckoning  sadly  led  astray  am  I : 
Were  he  as  good  as  tall,  his  worth  were  high. 
Anon  I  measured  him  with  honour's  yard: 
Then  like  a  coat  the  tailor  spoiled  he  shrunk  — 
Less  than  a  dwarf's  was  his  ignoble  trunk: 
Yet  now  his  years  are  such  all  growth  is  barred. 
But  when  to  the  King  I  put  this  yard,  then  lo ! 
He  shot  in  the  air,  and  ye  may  see  him  grow 
High  as  a  giant  o'er  his  puny  foe ! 

50. 

Apulia's  King,  Rome's  Lord,  to  thee  I  cry: 

Spite  of  my  skill  in  song  how  poor  am  I ! 

Fain  would  I  own  a   hearth  to  warm  me  by. 

Oho !     How  would  I   sing 2  of  birds  and   heather 

And  flowers  and  trees,  as  I  sang  long  ago ! 

And  the  fair  dame  who  thanked  me  then  should  grow 

Lilies  and  rosies  on  her  cheeks  together ! 

I  come  at  night,  I  ride  at  morn :  woe  to  thee,  guest ! 

Mine  host  may  praise  the  leas  in  clover  dressed. 

Relieve  my  cares,  O  King,  lest  cares  should  you  molest ! 

51. 

Home,  sweet  home. 

I  have  my  fief!     I  have  my  fief!     My  woes  are  o'er! 
The  frost  shall  nip  my  toes  no  more ; 

i)  The  Hohenstaufens  were  generally  short  in  stature.  Schonbach  quotes  the 
ollowing  passage  from  Buoncompagno ,  an  Italian  rhetor  of  the  time:  "Potest  Otto, 
papa  Innocentius  cum  gladio  spiritual!  verticem  coronatum  abscidit,  in  Saulem  vel 
aoliam  propter  magnitudinem  staturse  transumi;  rex  Fredericus  in  David,  et  ipse  Inno- 
entius  papa  in  Deum,  quia  omnia,  quaecumque  voluit,  fecit." 

2}  Cf.  LD,  LXII,   21  seq. 


-     96     - 

No  evil  masters  now  I  need  implore : 

The  noble  King  and  generous  hath  provided 

That  I  shall  have  in  summer  air,  in  winter  fire. 

My  neighbours  wish  me  joy,  and  nigh  admire: 

I  am  not  now  the  scare-crow  they  derided. 

Tell  me  what  crime  constrained  me  poor  to  bide? 

My  breath  was  foul  they  forced  me  so  to  chide : 

Me  and  my  song  the  King  hath  purified. 

52. 

Duke  of  the  Eastern  Realm,  your  glory  new 
Is  bruited  so,  our  hearts  do  yearn  for  you; 
Your  welcome  shall  be  such  as  fell  to  few. 
Rightly  the  bells  shall  ring  our  bliss  abroad, 
And  the  townsfolk  crowd  to  see  you  enter  in, 
You  that  are  coming  free  from  shame  as   sin; 
The  dames  shall  kiss  you,  and  the  men  shall  laud. 
To  the  minutest  scruple  this  praise  be 
Weighed  out  at  home,  lest  any  sigh:  'That  he 
Were  buried  with  his  fame  beyond  the  sea !"  * 

53. 

Of  Tegernsee  I  oft  had  heard  maintained 

With  what  good  cheer  the  good  monks  entertained, 

And  turned  a  mile  out  of  my  way  to  see. 

It  seems  a  curious  man  am  I : 

On  my  own  judgment  never  I  rely,2 

But  trust  to  all  that  people  say  to  me. 

Not  that  the  monks  I  chide — myself  a  sinner  - 

My  hands  they  let 

Me  wash;  and  wet 

I  went  from  their  refectory  without  dinner. 

54. 

Latius  regnes. 

Who  slays  the  lion,  who  slays  the  dragon?  - 
He  that  can  leave  the  cork  in  the  flagon. 

1)  Cf.  MF,  20,  I  seq.     This   poem   was   probably   written  in  1220  at  Venice, 
a  greeting  to  Duke  Leopold  VII  of  Austria,  then  returning  from  a  crusade. 

2)  Cf.  VIII,   14  seq. 


—     97     — 

He  that  from  passion's   storm  and  strife 
Can  pilot  his  limbs  to  a  quiet  life. 
Virtue  false,  and  hypocrite   shame, 
May  shine  awhile,  like  the  candle's  flame, 
That  flickers,  splutters,  dies  out  quick, 
Smothered   on   its   own    muddy  wick. 

55. 

When   brainless   fools   are   millionaires, 
They  strut  as  if  the  world  were  theirs. 
In  usage  vile  great  wealth  is   frittered, 
And  none  at  all  makes  men  embittered. 
Since  too  great  riches  manners  kills, 
And  penury  the  bosom  chills, 
It  seems  to  me  that  both  are  ills. 

56.1 

Palindrome. 

With  a  rod  no  man  alive 
Goodness  in  a  child  can  drive: 
Whom  you  may  to  honour  bring 
As  a  blow  a  word  will  sting. 
As  a  blow  a  word  will  sting 
Whom  you  may  to  honour  bring: 
Goodness   in  a   child   can   drive 
With  a  rod  no  man  alive. 

Have  a  good  care  of  your  tongue, 
Guarded  speech  beseems  the  young; 
Shoot  the  bolt  the  door  behind, 
Lock   within   the   words   unkind. 
Lock  within  the  words  unkind, 
Shoot  the  bolt  the  door  behind; 
Guarded  speech  beseems  the  young, 
Have  a  good  care  of  your  tongue. 

Have  a  good  care  of  your  eyes, 
They  were  never  meant  for  spies : 
Noble  manners  let  them  mind, 

i)  This  poem  is  thought  to  have  been  addressed  by  Walther,  about  1220, 
to  his  pupil  Henry,  the  young  King  of  the  Romans,  "des  harten  Friedrich  allzu- 
weicher  Sohn''. 

Bithell,  The  Minnesingers.     I. 


-     Q8     — 

Be  they  to  ignoble  blind. 
Be  they  to  ig-noble  blind, 
Noble  manners  let  them  mind: 
They  were   never  meant  for  spies, 
Have  a  good  care  of  your  eyes. 

Have  a  good  care  of  your  ears, 
Foolish  is  who  all  things  hears: 
Evil    speech   if  they   admit, 
You  will  be  defiled  by  it. 
You  will  be  defiled-  by  it, 
Evil  speech  if  they  admit ; 
Foolish  is  who  all   things  hears, 
Have  a  good  care  of  your  ears. 

Have  good  care  of  all  the  three, 
They  are  often  all  too  free : 
Tongue  and  eyes  and  ears  are  bent 
On  delight  and  devilment. 
On  delight  and  devilment 
Tongue  and  eyes  and  ears  are  bent : 
They  are  often  all  too  free, 
Have  good  care  of  all  the  three. 

57. 

It  came  to  pass, 

A  scholar  read  that  dreams   and  glass  x 
Are  wisely  rated 
Stable   as  the   breeze. 
Foliage  and  grass, 
That  were  my  soul's  delight,  alas ! 
They  too  are  fated 
Now  no   more  to  please. 
Nor  all  the  flowers  that  stud  the  leas, 
The  purple  heath,  and  the  green  trees, 
The  birds'  song  that  in  the  frost  grows  still, 
And  the  linden  fair 
And  cool  that  winds   strip  bare. 

0  Lady  World,  thy  garments  clothe  thee  ill! 
Foolish  and  fond, 

1  cling  to  the  brittle  bond 
i)  Cf.  MF,  119,  13—15. 


—     99     — 

That   binds  my  pleasure 

To  this  world  of  naught. 

I  should  despond, 

Had   I   the   lesson   conned 

In  the  due  measure 

That  my  life  has  taught. 

My  mind   with  anguish   is   distraught: 

Time  is  it  I  on  penance  thought; 

Now  sick,  I  fear  Death  dour  and  grim 

Will  sudden  rise 

Before  my  breaking  eyes. 

Pale  grow  my  ruddy  cheeks  to  think  on  him.1 

Howe'er  can  one 

Who  needs  by  sin  must  be  undone, 
Take  heart,  I  wonder, 
And  be  of  good  cheer?2 
Since  I  begun 

To  know  what  things  to  shun, 
The  good  to  sunder 
From  the   evil  here 
Below,  I  thrust  my  left  hand  sheer 
Into  the  flames  that  scorch  and  sear, 
And  shouted  in  the  devil's  carnival ; 
But  now  I  quail, 

Lest  penance  should  no  more  avail, 
Nor  Christ  stretch  out  his  hand  when  I  shall  fall. 

O  Christ,  whose  might 
Controlleth,  both  by  day  and  night, 
Thy  wide   creation 
And  all  human  kind! 
Let  my  heart's  light 
Glow  like  a  furnace  in  thy  sight 
With  adoration! 
O  instruct  my  mind! 
With  seeing  eyes  I  am  as  blind: 
No  more  than  babes  the  truth  I  find! 

1)  Cf.  CB,  167,  i,  1.3. 

2)  Cf.  Freid.,  31,  10;  Wilm.,  Leben,  HI,  431;  LD,  XCVIII,  303  —  4: 

"It  is  indeed  a  wonder  that  any  man  be  gay, 
Seeing  that  the  body's  sweetness  is  the  soul's  decay." 

7* 


-        100       - 

I 

I  hid  my  long  transgressions  from  the  world: 

But  Thou  Who  sure 

Hast  seen,  O  make  me  pure, 

Ere  to  the  abandoned  valley  I  am  hurled! 

58. 

Swan  -song. 

Alas,  where  have  my  years  fled  on  subtle  wing? 
Was  then   my  life  a  vision,   or  a  real  thing? 
That  which  I  deemed  was  round  me,  was  it  really  there? 
Methinks  that  I  was  sleeping,  sleeping  unaware! 
I  am  awakened  now,  and  what  I  knew  before 
As  one  hand  knows  the  other,  now  I  know  no  more. 
The  land  and  folks  that  reared  me,  in  the  days  gone  by, 
Strange-  are  they  grown,  as  if  they  were  a  lie. 
My  childhood's  comrades,  they  are  bent  with  sluggish  eld; 
The  heath  is  turned  to  cornland,  and  the  forest  felled. 
But  that  the  river  rloweth  as  it  was  wont  to  flow, 
There  would  be  nothing  constant  but  my  woe.1 
Many  who  knew  me  well  before  scant  greetings  spare; 
The  world  is  full  of  trouble   everywhere. 
And  when  I  call  to  mind  the  happy  days  of  long  ago 
That  passed  away  as  on  the  sea  a  blow, 
Evermore  alas  ! 

Alas,  what  dreary  semblance  now  young  people   bear! 
Once  the  young  were  merry,  and  knew  naught  of  care. 
Why  is  it  that  they  now  are  all  so  sad? 
Where'er  in  the  world  I  wander  there  is  no  one  glad. 
Mourning  instead  of  laughter,  dance,  and  song  I  see. 
Such  woeful  years  were  ne'er  before   in   Christentee. 
Lo!  the  poor  head-dress  of  our  noble  dames  and  girls, 
And  the  haughty  knights  accoutred  in  the  smock  of  churls! 
Unwelcome  letters  are  from  Rome   arrived  ;  2 
Grief  we  are  granted,  and  of  joy  we  are  deprived. 
It  stirs  me  to  the  heart,  for  merry  was  the  land, 
That  now  I  must  not  laugh,  but  cry  by  the  Pope's  command. 


1)  Cf.  Wm  Cartwright:  "Still  do  the  stars  impart  their  light  .  .  .  The  strea 
still  glide  and  constant  are." 

2)  Refers  to  the  excommunication  of  the  Emperor  Frederick  II   in  Sep.  1227. 
The  situation  is  described  in  the  opening  lines  of  Browning's  "Sordello". 


._„,_  , 

There  is  such  murmuring  the  wild  birds  share         /'    , 
The  ban:  what  wonder  then  if  I  despair? 
Yet  why  should  I,  a  foolish  man,  in  anger  rave? 
The  happy  here  have  lost  the  joy  beyond  the  grave. 
Evermore  alas ! 

Alas,  how  are  we  poisoned  with  the  sweets  of  life ! 
With  hidden  gall  I  see  the  honey  rife. 
White,  green,   and  red  flaunts  With  an   outward  show 
Dame  World,  as  black: as  death  her  veils  below. 
But  mark  your *comfort,  ye  whom  she  has  led  astray! 
With  little  penance  you  can  purge  your  sins  away. 
Think  on  it,  noble  knights,  for  your  souls'  weal:  4 

Ye  bear  the  shining  helms  and  rings  of  stubborn  steel, 
The  trusty   shield,  the   consecrated  blade ! 

0  would  that  I  could  join  the  glorious  crusade!  j 
To  earn  a  noble  prize  I  would  essay  — 

1  mean  not  fiefs   of  land,  nor  money  pay: 

A  crown  eternal  for  my  toils  I  should  receive  -  f 

Such  might  a  mercenary  with  his  spear  achieve. 

If  I  on  the  dear  voyage  beyond  the  seas  could  pass, 

I  should  henceforth  sing  only  "Joy !"  and  nevermore  "Alas  !"  —  / 

Nevermore  "Alas!"  • 

'••    ' — -  '''    .    >'     ; 

• 

XXII.   Sir  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach. 

* 

Risest  thou  thus,  dim  dawn,  again? 

Warder.     "His  claws  are  driven  thorough  the  clouds :  he     / 

Into  the  welkin  stronger  hour  by  hour;  [riseth  gaily         / 

I  see  the  riven  horizon  growing  russet  daily :        , 

The  dawn  that  from  a  lady's  bower 
And  arms  unwilling  hunteth  up  the  knight 
Whom  I  afeared  let  in  at  the  postern  gate. 
He  must  not  be  discovered,  in  despite 
Of  all  his  enemies  aroused  too  late." 


102        

Such  news  thou  bringest  to  dart  a  dagger  in  my  breast, 

Or  e'er  the  tawny  night  is  paling. 

I  charge  thee  stay  thy  voice: 

I  charge  thee  as  thy  heart  is  free   from  guile; 

So  shalt  thou  have  the  gift  that  is  thy  choice, 

If  my  true  love  may  tarry  yet  a  while!" 
Warder.     "It  is  the  hour :  he  must  with  speed  be  brought 

Now  is  it  better,  so  thou  wilt.  [away! 

To  thy  secret  bower  he  may  return  another  day. 

Nor  fame  be  stained,  nor  life  be  spilt. 

I  promised  sure  to  bring  him  safe  again 

Away,  safe  as  I  brought  him  to  this  place : 

Now  is  it  morn;  night  was  it  when 

Your  kiss  won  him  from  me  and  wild  embrace." 
Lady.     "Yet  leave  him  clinging :  sing  all  thou  wilt,  but  let 

Love  who  brought  and  love  received.  [him  be, 

Oft  hath  thy  singing  woke  from  our  blisses  him  and  me, 

Long  ere   the   dawn,   and  too   soon   grieved 

My  love  who  sought  me  with  such   stealth  and  care. 

It  hath  not  dawned,  afraid  thou  art!    ' 

My  own  true  knight  thou  didst  full  often  tear 

From  my  white  arms  x  but  never  from  my  heart !" 
Wolfram.     Bolder  was  peeping  the  morning  through  the 

And  the  warder   sang  with   more   unrest.  [window-pane: 

On  her  was  creeping      fear  lest  his  blood  the  rush  should  stain. 

Her  bosom  sweet  to  his  she  pressed; 

Nor  did  he  of  a  surety  forget, 

Despite  the  warder's  angrier  warning, 

With  kisses  near  and  nearer  yet 

To  take  his  leave :  and  rode  into  the  morning. 

2. 

Felix  ter  et  amplius. 

Hidden  lovers'   woes 

Thou  wast  wont  to  sing  ere  dawn  arose : 
Bitter   parting   after    raptured   meeting. 
Whosoever  love  and  lady's  greeting 

1)  Cf.  LD,  XCI,  29;  XCII,   17;  XCIII,  31;  Osw.  5,  28;  7,  56;  71,  5. 

2)  Cf.  LD,  LI,  52. 


—      103     — 

So  received  that  he  was  torn 

From  her  breast  by  fear  of  men, 

Thou  wouldst  sing  him  counsel,  when 

Shone  the   star  of  morn. 

Warder,  sing  it  now  no  more,  lay  by  thy  bugle-horn! 

He  to  whom  is  given 

Not  to  be  from  love  by  morning  riven  — 
Whom  the  watchers  think  not  to  beleaguer, 
Hath  no  need  to  be  alert  and  eager 
To  avert  the  peril  rife 
In  the  day:  his  rest  isjnire,___ 
Nor  a  warder  makes  secure 
His  unhappy  life. 
Love  so  sweet  bestows  in  all  men's  sight  his  own  true  wife! 

3. 

A  lady  may  allow  me  be  so  bold 
To  mark  her  beauty  as  my  passion  would. 
I  wish  —  and  shall  do  even  if  she  scold  — 
To  let  my   eyes  dwell  in  her  neighourhood. 
How  comes  it  that  I  am  an  owl  in  sight? 
My  heart  can  see  her   in  the   depths   of   night. 

What   injury   does   a   stork   unto   the    corn? 
Less  injury  the  ladies  have  of  me. 
Their  hatred  would  be  cruel  to  be  borne : 
But  I  deserve  it  not ;  and  hope  to  see 
A  day  that  sees  me  at  the  height  of  bliss. 
Still  greater  wonders  have  occurred  ere  this. 

4. 

The  sprouting  flowers  and  leaves  and  the  May  time 
Pay  in  old  song  to  the  wild  birds  their  lords 
The  dues  they  owe ; x  but  I  can  sing  when  rime 
All  whitens,  though  my  lady  not  rewards. 
The  forest   singers  and  their  tune 
Rang  not   so   sweetly  by  the    end   of  June. 

The  flowers  that  look  up  to  us  brightly  dressed 
Are  brightened  by   the   dew-drops   in  them  hung; 

i)  The  birds  are  pictured  as  feudal  lords  receiving  dues  from  their  vassals.    Cf. 
MF,   209,   24  and  37;   206,   13;  LD,  XXV,   59;  Frauend.,   174.5. 


—     1 04     — 

The  birds  clear-throated   did  their   best 

All  the  May-tide  to  rock  with  song  their  young; 

Nor  then  hath  slept  the   nightingale  - 

But  now  I  wake  and  sing  o'er  hill  and  dale. 

My  song  implores  your  favour  for  the  sake 
Of  whom  I  die/    O  save  me,  sweet,  from  death! 
May  your  reward  vouchsafe  my  homage  take, 
Which  I  will  offer,  offer  till  fails  breath! 
Your  beauteous  shape  compels  me  still 
To  sing,  but  short  or  long  just  as  you  will. 


XXIII.   Sir  Heinrich  von  Prauenberg. 

Surge,  ne  longus  tibi  somnus  detur. 

Ere  the  morning 
Sweetly  a  warder  sang, 
Whenas  Orion  shone. 
His  loud  warning 
Into  the  chamber  rang 
To  bid  the  knight  be  gone. 
"O  Lady,  lie 

No  more:  the  feeble  night 
Is  fainting  with  the  fear  of  light. 
Sung  have  I." 

"I   conjure  thee, 
Be  still!"  she   said. 
"Thine   eyes  do  sure   mistake  thee !" 
—  /'Since  you  do  fee 
My  service  with  my  bread, 
It  cannot  be  but  I  must  wake  ye. 
And  it  is  fitter 
That   you   be   told: 

For  if  you  know  not  what  mine  eyes  behold, 
Your  joy  may  yet  turn  bitter." 

—  "High  reward 
Shalt  thou,  sweet  warder,  get," 
Saith  the  lady  fair  of  face, 
"If  mv  dear  lord 


May  tarry  yet 

In  my  embrace. 

Still  for  a  brief 

Space,  help  me  to  keep  him   here, 

With   all   thy   cunning,   warder   dear!   - 

Become,  as  I  am  now,  a  thief." 


XXIV.   The  Virtuous  Scribe. 

Donis  vincitur  omnis  amor. 

Love  was  so  dear  she  turned  away  her  face 
From  goods  and  gold: 

Now  she  will  rest  her  head  on  bosom  base, 
Self-sold  and  cold. 
She  is  so  gay, 
Whoever   craves   her, 
If  he  can  pay, 
He  soon  enslaves  her; 
This  is  the  way 
That  now  depraves  her. 

Noble  and  chaste  was  Love  once,  and  withal 
So  girt  with  awe! 

Now  for  the  gems  of  old  her  coronal 
She  cares  no  straw. 
Truth,  constancy 
The   jade   disdaineth : 
Disdained  is  she, 
No  pity  gaineth: 
Such  change,  ah  me! 
The  lady  staineth. 

Now  Love  is  driven  into  the  hinder  ranks. 
Fain  would  she  be 

With  the  noble  captains  who  give  her  no  thanks 
For  flattery. 

Those  whom  she  struck 
Pluck  out  the  darts, 
From  where  they  stuck 
In  conquered  hearts: 


—     io6     — 

Turned  is  her  luck, 
Tis  she  now  smarts. 

Her  worth  fell  when  she  bade  old  friends  good-bye, 
And  sought  the   mart. 

Those  whom  it  was  her  honour  to  be  nigh, 
Walk  now  apart. 
Her  chains   she  wound 
Round  whom   she  listed: 
Strong  men  were  bound, 
Nor  e'en  resisted: 
Now  s  h  e  is  found 
In  coils  entwisted. 

—  Nay,  but  I  speak  with  sense  as  of  a  child ! 
Love  led  by  gold! 
O  it   is   Unlove  reinless   roving  wild, 
Whom  none  can  hold. 
Unlove  I  fear; 
And  who  would  screen  her? 
Sweet  Love  is  dear: 
Chaste   have   I   seen   her, 
Exempt  and  clear 
Of  misdemeanour! 

i)  Cf.  CB,  83.   The  poem  also  reminds  one  of  Clement  Marot's  famous  Rondeau: 
"In  the  good  old  times  love  in  such  fashion  reigned 
Nothing  from  art  or  presents  then  you  gained: 
So  that  your  mistress  would  a  nosegay  hold 
As  precious  as  the  round  earth  with  its  gold: 
Only  a  true  heart's  gift  she  entertained. 
And  if  by  chance  enjoyment  was  attained, 
Know  you  the  length  of  years  love  was  maintained? 
A  score,  a  score  and  ten:  love  lived  to  be  old 

In  the  good  old  times. 
But  now  forgotten  is  what  love  ordained: 
Changes  are  all  you  hear  of,  and  tears  feigned. 
And  if  you  wish  that  I  to  love  be  bold, 
Then  first  of  all  you  must  your  love  remould, 
To  shine  again  as  when  love  never  waned 

In  the  good  old  times." 
(Oeuvres,  p.  193).     Cf.  also  Tristan   12284  seq. 


XXV.   Freidank's  Wisdom. 

He   that   with   nice    discretion  women    scans, 
Allows  their  nature  nobler  than  a  man's. 
They  are  ashamed  of  all  ignoble  deeds 
A  man  takes  pleasure  in,  or  little  heeds. 

Men  may  boast  of  sinful  lust, 
Which  humbles   women   to   the   dust. 
These  are  ruined  by  the  sin 
Those  may  revel,  wallow  in. 
Halved  unfairly  are  these  odds : 
Not  by  any  law  of  God's. 

Loose  women's  lust  arises  in 
The   heart,  as  does  no  other  sin. 

If  women  love,  and  go  astray, 
It  is  because  men  beg  and  pray; 
A  man  might  for  his  virtue  fear, 
If  he  were  pressed  by  all  that's  dear. 

A  woman's  heart  begins  its  life, 
When  a  good  man  seeks  her  to  wife. 

A  man  is  but  the  nobler  by 
Love,   when  he  with  love   may  lie. 

Shameful  is  it  to  entice 
A  virtuous  woman  into  vice. 

A  woman's  chastity  is  saved, 
Who  is  not  likely  to  be  craved.1 

A  man  may  ask  for  a  kiss  or  so, 
A  woman  very  well  say  "No". 

Women  say  "No",  as  it  is  meet: 
Yet  is   to  them  the   asking   sweet. 

By  a  fire  without  a  grate, 
Baby's  sure  to  scorch  his  pate. 
Men  that   much  of  women  see 
Find  that  two  and  time  make  three. 

Better  a  hedgehog  in  your  bed, 
Than  a  bride  unwillingly  wed. 

A  man  she  hates  in  a  woman's  bed 
Is  really  worse  than  a  lump  of  lead. 

i)  Cf.  Logau:  "Chastity  saves  from  the  pit,  Say  they  who  are  condemned  to  it." 
"Casta  quam  nemo  rogavit." 


—      108     — 

If  you  are  silly,  be  familiar 
With  prostitutes.     You  will  be  sillier. 

A  man  can't  make  a  woman  out. 
A  woman  knows  what  a  man's  about. 

Sail  love's  broad  main  till  you  be  drowned, 
Women  are  stranger  seas  men  cannot  sound. 

There  are  many  flowers  that  shoot 
Lovely  from  a  bitter  root. 

Fools  think  what  pleases  them  should  please  their  wives  : 
Hence  many  women  lead  such  joyless  lives. 

Who  alone  his  grief  must  bear, 
Stands  in  danger  of  despair. 

Friends  true  as  steel,  and  steel  that  stood  the  test, 
Are  worth  their  weight  in  gold  when  one's  hard  pressed.1 

Happy  is  the  man  with  many  friends : 
Woe  to  him  whose  happiness  on  them  depends.2 

Pleasure  was  a  dream  that  kissed 
Lips,  when  the  arms  that  clasped  enfolded  mist. 

When  September  days  are  o'er 
Dizzy  midges  dance  no  more.8 

Lands  and  goods  no  man  doth  own 
On  the  earth,  save  God  alone. 
Soul  and  body,  rank,  estate  — 
Fiefs  that  he  may  confiscate. 

Falsehoods  told  God  to  deceive : 
Never  a  one  did  He  believe.* 

When  water  flows  up  mountain  walls, 
The  burden  from  the  sinner  falls. 
I  mean  when  tears  in  secret  rise 

1)  Quoted  by  Walther,  84,   no. 

2)  Cf.  Logau:  "To  have  friends  is  nice: 

To  need  their  help  a  vice." 

3)  Cf.  Heine  ("Frau  Sorge"): 

"Erloschen  ist  der  Sonnenglanz, 
Zerstoben  ist  der  Miickentanz." 

4)  Cf.  Ludwig  Fulda: 

"Es  ist  ein  allgemeines  Komplott 
Von  der  Wiege  zum  Leichentuche : 
Wie  macht  man  an  dem  lieben  Gott 
Die  schlausten  Bestechungsversuche?" 


—     109     — 

Out  of  the  heart  into   the  eyes : 

Although  their  sound  is  very  low, 

Through  the  din  of  Heaven  God  hears  them  flow. 

Should  I  be  loved  by  wicked  men, 
Time  to   turn   a  new  leaf  then. 

Hate  does  injure  none  a  whit, 
Save  the  heart  that  harbours  it. 

He  who  hates  a  noble  man, 
Acts  as  meanly  as  he  can. 

As  you  in  the  forest  cry, 
So  the  forest  gives  reply. 
Love  brings  back  the  love  it  sought; 
Curses  are  with  curses  caught. 

Summer  in  the  end  would  sicken  us, 
Came  not  winter  sharp  to  quicken  us. 

Candles  to  their  sockets  burn: 
So  must  we  do,  in  our  turn. 

Misers'  hearts  with  grief  are  riven, 
When  they  give  or  see  things  given; 
Generous  hearts  are   grieved  when  they 
To  the  asker  must  say  nay. 

Work  all  our  own  goes  with  a  right  good  will : 
Forced  labour  rolls  a  cask  up  a  steep  hill. 

In  the  best  bed  that  can  be  had 
At  least  one  feather  will  be  bad. 

An  ill-bred  guest  sore  vexes  a  good  host: 
The  host  who  makes  him  feel  it  need  not  boast. 

There  is  not  a  word  so  fine, 
None  so  sweet  as  even  "mine". 

Men  who  grow  blind  see  often  with  a  painter's  eyes, 
Doubling  a  world  remembered,  for  disguise, 
With  its  own   essence   and  its  deeper  dyes. 

Leisurely  the  lion  paces, 
When  the  hares  are  on  his  traces. 

A  lion  that  does  hear  a  man's  voice,  flees  him, 
But  turns  again  soon  as  he  sees   him. 

Peace  on  earth,  good  will  to  men  — 
When  the  wolf  keeps  from  the  pen. 

Some  would  drink  until  they  burst 


I  10       

Rather  than  they'd  die  of  thirst. L 

For  all  the  crow 
Bathes  in  the  snow, 
She  will  never  whiter  grow. 

An  ox  to  a  far  country  came. 
He  was  cattle  just  the  same. 

For  all  his  pains, 
A  dog  that  goes  to  church  a  dog  remains. 

Many  a  man  sees  naught  in  me 
In  whom  I  can  nothing  see. 

All  that  we  do  to  us  seems  so  well  done, 
The  country  is  with  asses   overrun. 

Where  the  ass  is  crowned, 
Evil  is  the  land  renowned. 

He  who  thinks  that  he  knows  all 
Has  a  fool  at  his  beck  and  call. 

Fools   on  the  mirror   feed  their   eyes : 
Themselves  they  never  recognise. 

You  can't  convince  a  fool  that  anyone 
Could  better  anything  that  he  has  done. 

Foolish   men  their   fancies  set 
On  things  difficult  to  get. 
What's  within  their  arm's  reach,  that 
They  turn  up  their  noses  at.2 

If  you  would  that  fools  admire  you, 
You  must  speak  as  they  desire  you. 

Whom  fools  despise, 
Let  him  sit  among  the  wise. 

God,  who  plagues  with  care  the  wise, 
Leaves  the  fools  in  Paradise. 

A  man's  brains 
Are  his  gains. 

Treasure  turned  up  by  a  dunce 
Passes  to  the  wise  at  once. 

1)  Cf.  Logau:        "He  that  daily  swims  in  drink 

Must,  some  day  or  other,  sink." 

2)  Cf.  Goethe:  "Willst  du  immer  weiter  schweifen?    Sieh,  das  Gute  liegt  so  nah. 
Lerne   nur  das  Gluck  ergreifen,   Denn  das  Gliick  ist  immer  da.'1     I  cannot  locate  the 
original   of  the  following  ("Wohl  ungliickselig  ist   der  Mann"):  "God  have  mercy  on 
the  man  who  Tries  to  do  what  he  ne'er  can  do.     If  he  won't  do  what  he  might  do 
He'll  be  ruined  —  serve  him  right,  too." 


Ill 


Give  all  people  equal  brains, 
What  of  rich  and  poor  remains?1 

If  you  speak  but  poorly,  man, 
Speak  as  rarely  as  you  can. 

A  man  may  be  too  plain  to  kiss : 
Handsome  to  himself  he  is.2 

Could  anything  than  flowers  be  duller, 
If  they  had  all  the  self-same  colour?3 

A  capital  thing 
Were  honey  with  no   sting.4 

Me  no  honeyed  words  can  soften; 
Venom  in  their  tail  is,  often.5 

To  the  clever  will  be  clear, 
What  I,  poor  fool,  have  spoken  here. 


XXVI.   Sir  Neidhart  von  Reuental. 
1. 

Itch  of  love  in  aged  vaines. 

"An  old  woman  began  to  caper; 
"I  will  go  for  flowers,"  quoth  she,  and  bounced 
Like  a  kitten  with  a  piece  of  paper. 
"Daughter,  reach  my   clothes  from  the   stand: 
The  squire  will  lead  me  by  the  hand, 
Who  is  known  as  Reuental  in  the  land." 
Traranuretum,  traranuriruntundeie ! 

"O  mother,  you  are  daft  and  dafter! 
He  is  a  squire  of  such  a  mind 
He  betrays  his  loves  and  jeers  at  them  after." 
"Daughter,  do  not  bother  your  head; 

1)  Contradicted  Walt.  44,   II  seq. 

2)  Cf.  LD,  XL,  52  —  53. 

3)  Cf.  Goethe:  "All  plagues  and  tribulations  may 

Be  borne,  save  sunshine  day  by  day." 

4)  Cf.  Logau:     "In  hives  of  bees, 

And  women's  skirts, 
Is  what  may  please, 
And  much  that  hurts." 

5)  Cf.  Logau:     "Gnats  sing  before  they  sting: 

Slanderers  pand.er  ere  they  slander." 


I  know  what  the  dear  lad  has  said, 
And  I  for  his  love  am  well-nigh  dead." 
Traranuretum,  traranuriruntundeie ! 

And  then  she  called,  as  she   skipped  and  curvetted, 
To  another  old  woman  to  go  with  her; 
'Too  long  we  have  sulked  in  the  house,  and  fretted, 
Let's  go  and  gather  flowers  together! 
For  why  should  I  keep  to  my  tether 
When  all  my  gossips  roam  the  heather?" 
Traranuretum,  traranuriruntundeie ! 

2. 

Now  is  the  May  o'erflowing 
His  endless  treasures  showing, 
Bestowing  on  the  wood  new  garments  splendid, 
Shedding  many  a  fold  of  shade:  winter  bare  is  ended. 

My  heart  is  light  as  a  feather 
To  greet  the  growing  heather, 
That  is  now  its  greener  carpet  laying. 
"I  will  give  the  flowers   a  right  good  welcome/'  a  fair 
maid  was  saying. 

"Mother,  my  heels  are  aching! 
See  all  the  boys  are  taking 
Their  sweethearts  out!     Hey-diddle-diddle ! 
It  is  so  long  since  a  new  song  was  played  to  us  on  the 
fiddle." 

"Nay,  daughter,  nay!     Thy  hunger 
I  stilled  when  thou  wert  younger 
Upon  my  bosom:  prithee  smother 
This  shameful  hankering  after  men,  for  the  sake  of  thy 
old  mother!" 

"But  his   name  is  —  do  not  dread  it!  — 
His  name  is  to  his  credit; 
You  must  let  me  hurry  off  to  meet  him ; 
He  is  Knight  von  Reuental,  and  with  a  kiss  my  mouth 
shall  greet  him. 

The  branches  all  are  greening 
As  thick  as  they  were  leaning 


To  lay  upon  the  lawn  their  burden; 

You  may  know  for  sure,  sweet  mother  of  mine,  the  boy 

shall  have  his  guerdon. 
Mother,  to  hear  is  pity! 
He  swears,  in  a  love-sick  ditty, 
There  is  not  such  another  fairy 

From  Bavaria  to  Franconia !  Shall  I  of  thanks  be  chary  ?" 

3, 

Solvitur  acris  hiems. 

On  the   mountain,   in  the   valley, 
Singing  birds  again  do  rally ; 
Now  is  seen 
Clover  green; 
Winter,  take  away  thy  teen! 

Trees  that   erst  were  grey  to  view 
Now  their  verdant  robes  renew; 
In  their  shade 
Nests  are  made; 
Thence  the  toll  of  May  is  paid. 

Fought  an  aged  wife  for  breath 
Day  and  night,  and  baffled  death; 
Now  she  rushes 
Like  a  ram  about,  and  pushes 
All  the  young  ones  into  the  bushes. 

4. 

Gelidum  nemus. 

All  the  wood  was  lost 
In  snow  and  frost; 
Now  are  leaves  on  every  tree. 
Come  and  see, 
Boys  and  maids, 
And  dance  in  the  cool  forest  glades. 

From  many  a  greening  spray, 
Wild  birds  gay 

Fill  with  long  melodies  the  woods; 
And  the  full  buds 
Will  soon  unclose. 
O  tread  not  where  the  violet  blows ! 1 

i)  The  first  violet  found  was  placed  on  a  pole,  round  which  the  peasants  then 
danced.     See  Wack.,  Kl.  Sch.  I,  p.  212. 
Bithell,  The  Minnesingers.     I. 


—      114      — 

May  is  dearest  yet, 
For  then  my  love  I  met, 
Dancing  in  the  linden  shade. 
The  leaves  played, 
And  wafted  sweet, 
To  shelter  her  from  the  sun's  heat. 

5. 

Ver  preterit  aestas. 

Now  are  ye  merry,  old  and  young! 
Strong  May  has  flung 
The  shivering  winter  from  the  earth ; 
Now  the  flowers  are  at  their  birth. 
The  nightingale  is  panting 
On  yonder  spray,  with  many  a  lay  every  heart  enchanting. 

The  leaves  are  thick  on  every  bough. 
What  girl  obeys  her  mother  now? 
"And  if  you  tied  me  to  a  bench 
With  a  stout  rope,"  saith  the  lusty  wench, 
I  would  wrench  myself  away; 

He  waits  for  me  by  the  greenwood  tree,  where  the  lads 
and  lassies  play." 

Her  mother  heard,  out  and  alack! 
"I'll  thwack,  I'll  beat  her  blue  and  black! 
I'll  stripe  her  back!     I'll  stop  her! 
You  little  grasshopper, 

Would  you  hop  from  the  nest  without  my  leave? 
Nay,  you  shall  tend  the  house  and  mend,  sweet  daughter 
of  mine,  my  tattered  sleeve." 

"O  mother,  keep  your  stick  for  rubbing 
Your  wrinkles  smooth,  and  not  for  drubbing. 
How  can  you  keep  me  willy-nilly? 

-  Don't  run  like  that,  it  is  so  silly! 
The  wind  is  whistling  through  your  sleeve! 
You'll  soon  be  dead  with  a  cold  in  the  head,  and  I  shall 
be  left  to  grieve." 

Up  the  mother  jumped,  and  caught  her 
By  the  hair,  and  screamed:  "Undutiful  daughter! 
This  roof  no  more  your  head  shall  shelter: 
Out  you  go!"  —  "Yea,  helter-skelter! 


—      H5     ~ 

Off  I  go  to  follow  my  bent! 

You  need  not  scream !  -  -  Close  to  the  seam,   through 
the  sleeve  the  hole  is  rent." 

6. 

And  the  wild  rose  wakes  in  the  winding  lanes. 

"Winter  himself  to  exile  hath  betaken, 
And  earlier  the  days  awaken. 
A  happy  time  is  on  the  wing; 
May  is  king,   May  is  king! 
Never  before  the  birds   so  sweet  did  sing. 

Now  for  the  eyes  there  is  a  feast  uncloses  — 
In  wood  and  wold  the  wonder  of  wild  roses. 
Thorough  the  grass  pierce  flowers   fair; 
And  dew  was  on  a  meadow  where 
My  truelove  wreathed  a  garland  for   my  hair. 

The  wood  forgets  the  snow  that  thawred,  besmirching 
A  verdant  bough  where  now  the  May  is  perching. 
Never  leafage  thicker  shone. 
Playmate,  bind  your  head-dress  on: 
You  know  that  I  must  meet  a  knight  anon !" 

Overheard  the  maiden's   mother  prying. 
"Henceforth  keep  your  tongue,"  she  cried,  "from  lying! 
You  are  a  hussy!     Go  and  wind 
A  wimple  x  round  your  hair,  and,  mind ! 
If  you  would  dance,  your  clothes  2  you  first  must  find." 

"To  lock  my  clothes  up,  like  his  gold  a  miser, 
You  have  no  right  from  king  or  kaiser. 
They  are  not  yours :  you  ne'er  did  spin 
A  single  thread,  so  hold  your  din! 
Open  the  chest,  or  I  will  break  it  in!" 

The  clothes  were  hidden  at  the  very  bottom 
Of  an  oaken  chest,  but  the  daughter  got  'em. 
She  prized  up  the  lid  with  the  leg  of  a  chair, 
When  the  old  woman  was  not  there ; 
You  might  have  heard  a  pin  drop,  I  declare. 

And  in  a  trice  she  donned  her  summer  kirtle, 
Taking  from  the  folds  the  sprigs  of  myrtle; 

1)  Maidens  wore  their  hair  loose,  or  with  a  garland.     Weinh.  II,  327. 

2)  The   girls   put   on   their  best  clothes   to   dance.      Cf.   Haupt   5,    8;    27  "ir 
bestez  viretacgewant".  g* 


—      n6     — 

Around  her  waist  a  belt  she  drew; 

And  her  shuttle-cock  into 

The  hand  of  young  von  Reuental  she  threw. 

7. 

Now  the  wood,  in  sun  and  leisure, 

Hath  set  up  a  merchant's  stall 

For  the  playtime  of  the  May-time,  and  to  all 

He  is  selling  cheap,  with  generous  measure, 

Seeds  that  shoot  to  pleasure. 

Merry  heart,  go  buy  thy  portion  of  the  treasure 

8. 

Out  of  the  way  with  the  chairs  and  the  bed! 
Stools  and  table 
Into  the  stable! 
To-day  we'll  dance  till  we  drop  for  dead! 

Let  the  wind  through  the  window  in! 
Maiden  fair, 
To  dishevel  thy  hair, 
And  through  thy  corsage  cool  thy  skin. 

When  you  have  rested  your  heated  shoon, 
Stamp  the  floor 
O'er  and  o'er, 
And  I  will  fiddle  the  second  tune! 

9. 

Carmen  non  prius  auditum. 

Winter,  we  are  by  thy  might 
Into  houses  driven 
From  the  wood  and  hill, 
Where  thine  icy  blizzards  bite. 
Lark,  thou  art  forgiven 
That  thy  song  grows  still ; 
War  upon  thee  rime  and  snow, 
All  thy  trilling  chilling; 
And  the  clover,  too,  must  go. 
May  to  praise  I'm  willing, 
But  winter  is  my  foe! 

Dance  and  laugh  as  youth  befits, 
Though  the  trees  are  smitten 


Till  return  of  spring. 

See!     To  spice  the  cheer  my  wits 

Freshly  here  have  written 

Words  for  all  to  sing, 

Lest  encumbered  skies  should  bar 

Natural  pleasure-seeking. 

Warm  thy  room  is,  Engelmar, 

While  on  moorlands  shrieking 

The  sprites  of  winter  are ! 


XXVII.   Count  Otto  von  Botenlauben. 

l.1 

But  that  Christ's  boon  excels  all  other  things, 
I  would  not  wander  from  my  lady's  eyes: 
To  whom  my  heart  perpetual  praises  sings, 
She  is  to  me  sufficient  Paradise.2 
Whereso  the  lady  dwelleth  by  the  Rhine, 
Lord,  let  thy  countenance  upon  me  shine, 
To  help  me  win  thy  mercy  for  her  soul  and  mine !  * 

"Since  he  proclaims  I  am  his  Paradise, 
Lo,  I  have  chosen  him  my  God  to  be, 
And  shrined  him  in  my  heart,  and  there  he  lies. 

0  God  Almighty,  be  not  wroth  with  me! 

1  trow  he  is  not  in  my  eyes  a  thorn, 
But  rather  for  my  rapture  he  was  born: 
If  he  be  slain  in  Palestine,  I  am  forlorn." 

2. 

Then  let  us  pinion  time. 

Wr  a  r  d  e  r.         "How  from  the  man  now  shall  I  part  the  woman, 
Lest  dalliance  hold  them  deep  into  the  day? 
As  I  set  .store  on  life,  the  knight  I  summon 
To  busk  and  boun  him  with  what  speed  he  may. 

1)  "Besonders  verwegen."     Schonbach. 

2)  Cf.  LD,  XCV,   15. 

3)  Cf.  MF,  21 1 ;  26;  LD,  LI,  72. 


—      n8     — 

Moderation  is  in  all  things  good.1 

And  the  cool  rush  may  soon  be  warm  with  blood, 

If  yet  the  lovers  lie. 

I  will  not  sing  a  stave  but:  Dawn  is  nigh! 

Arise,  Sir  Knight!" 
Lady.  "Love,  hearest  thou  the  warder  on  the  turret? 

The  night's  fleet  feet  have  run  their  course,  he  saith. 

Danger  I  only  dread  shouldst  thou  incur  it, 

Not  for  myself,  but  now  it  threateneth. 

Night  soothes  and  day  torments !   One  more  embrace ! 

Now  get  thee  gone,  for  I've  no  hiding-place 

From  peril  imminent : 

The  gray  light  steals  the  rapture  darkness  lent. 

Arise,  Sir  Knight!" 
Knight.         "Still  let  me  lie  and  kill  thy  lips  with  kisses, 

Still  press  thy  body  sweet  upon  my  breast, 

Lie  long  into  the  dawn  and  reap  these  blisses, 

As  though  day's  burnished  wake  still  rimmed  the  west ! 

Thou  art  the  magnet  that  shall  draw  me  back 

As  e'er  before,  imperilled  though  the  track." 
Lady.  "Day  grudges  thee  to  me, 

And  I  must  see  thee  go,  bemoaning  thee. 

Arise,  Sir   Knight!" 


XXVIII.  The  Duke  of  Anhalt. 

Stand  by,  and  let  the  wind  blow  on  my  cheeks, 
That  comes  from  my  heart's  Queen,  and  is  so  sweet 
The  odour  of  her  garments  it  bespeaks, 
And  all  they  hold  from  golden  2  head  to  feet. 

1)  Sic:  "Maze  1st  zallen  dingen  guot."     For   other  quaint   expressions   in  day- 
songs   see  Osw.  6,  35,  68  —  9   ("she   'gan   to   point   her   tongue,   and   put  it  in   his 
mouth":   cf.   12,  36);    LD,    XCVIII,    330  ("she  watered   him  with   tears",   cf.  MF, 
131,   7),  338  —  9  ("the  Jady  of  high  lineage  She  handed  him  his  clothes"). 

2)  Erschlossen!     The  only  possible  colour.     See  Weinhold  I,  222  seq.    There 
is    no    "nut-brown    maid"    or    "plur  na   mban   donn   og"    in   the  Minnesong.      CB, 
118,  3   "O  quam  crines  flavi",  but  "supercilia  nigrata"  (which  Symonds,  W.  W.  and 
S.  32,    translates    "eyelids  dark");    CB,   168,   9;  brune  bra  LD,  LIII,   13;   XCI,  8; 
H.  v.  M.  XVI,  37.    "Brown  eye- brows,  by  which  perhaps  a  darker  colour  was  meant, 
were  considered  particularly  beautiful".  Weinh.  I,  226. 


n9     — 

I  bow  unto  the  land  where  she  remains. 

If  I  could  be  with  her  when  darkness  reigns!  — 

Oho!     That  were  too  much:  it  is  enough 

To  serve  her  with  my  song  and  ask  no  gains. 


XXIX.    The  Sewer  of  St.  Gall. 
1. 

The  Son.     "I  will  rede  my  sire,  now  is  it  time  that  he 
Stem  the  wild  current  of  his  amorous  verse; 
It  is  but  fair  that  he  give  way  to  me  — 
He  may  be  sure  that  I  shall  rhyme  no  worse! 
I  will  his  lady  praise,  when  he  shall  laud 
What  he  hath  got  at  home,1  and  we  young  roam  abroad." 

The  Sire.     "Rudolf,  you  chatterbox,  seek  not  to  thwart  me ! 
I  will  not  of  my  music  be  denied; 
My  Chivalry  shall  to  the  grave  escort  me : 
Nor  all  your  toil  can  turn  the  ocean  tide. 
Myself  will  sing  the  lady  fair  and  good!  — 
You  thick-set  yokel,  go  to  the  clearing  and  chop  wood!" 

2. 

Omnes  eodem  cogimur. 

Now  wandereth  von  Vogelweide,  he 

To  whom  as  Master  of  our  song  we  bow, 

Upon  the  road  where  all  of  us  must  be 

His  followers.     O  what  avails  him  now 

His  knowledge  of  the  world?    That  noble  brain 

Is  feeble  grown  indeed.     Now  his  high  strain 

Melodious,  and  his  earthly  joy  are  o'er, 

Let  us  the  sweet  Father  for  his  soul  implore.. 


XXX.   Count  Friedrich  von  Leiningen. 

Adieu  m'amye  la  derniere. 

Whose  mind  on  pleasure  now  is  keen, 
Let  him  behold  the  forest  green 
Where  the  young  May  arrays  him; 

i)  i.  e.,  his  own  wife. 


Who  late  his  servitors  hath  dight 

In  livery  of  colours  bright, 

And  bidden  birds  to  praise  him.1 

0  Love,  since  thou  art  lock  and  band 
Of  this  imprisoned  heart  of  mine, 
Now  rede  me,  ere  I  leave  the  land: 
My  comfort  is  at  thy  command: 

1  burn  in  fires  of  thine!2 

If  I   must  from  my  love  depart, 
Nor  bear  her  favour  in  my  heart, 
I  look  for  scanty  pleasure 
While  to  Apulia  I  fare!  - 
O  thou  so  rich  in  rapture,  spare 
A  little  of  thy  treasure! 
Now  wound  me  not  with  such  cold  glance, 
But  let  thy  lips  of  crimson  say 

1)  The  "Natureingang"  reminded  me  of  the  poem  by  Charles  d'Orleans.    The 
latter,  of  which  I  append  a  rough  translation,  is  a  description  of  nature  similar  to  those 
which  in  the  Minnesong  lead  on  to  love -thoughts.    To  a  Minnesinger  the  loveless  land- 
scape would  have  seemed  futile  or  incomplete. 

"Spring's  forerunners  now  are  seen 
His  mansion  making  ready.     They 
Carpets  have  been  quick  to  lay 
Of  tissued  pearls  and  flowers  sheen. 
Those  hearts  that  pined  with  winter's  teen 
Are  sound  again,  thank  God,  and  gay. 
Be  gone,  thou  winter  cold  and  lean! 
We  would  not  have  thee  here  to  stay. 

His  cloak  of  wind,  and  cold,  and  rain 
The  season  now  hath  cast  away. 
Embroidered  with  the  sun's  bright  ray 
The  garb  he  weareth  shines  again. 
Nor  beast  nor  bird  but  sings  his  strain, 
Or  cries  his  call  of  glee  to-day. 
His  cloak  of  wind,  and  cold,  and  rain 
The  season  now  hath  cast  away. 

River,  fountain,  brook  are  fain 
On  their  fair  livery  to  display 
Jewelled  drops  of  silvery  spray. 
In  garments  new  go  knight  and  swain. 
His  cloak  of  wind,  and  cold,  and  rain 
The  season  now  hath  cast  away." 

2)  Cf.  H.  v.  M.  I,  55. 


121 


Five  words  to  make  me  of  good  cheer, 
And  give  me  wealth  of  travelling-gear.1 
"Be  happy  on  thy  way!" 
Lady.  "Be  happy  on  thy  way,  my  life 

May  God  be  with  thee  in  the  strife, 
And  make  thy  valour  famous. 
Could  my  command  delay  thee  yet, 
My  supplication  or  my  threat, 
Thy  dalliance  would  not   shame  us. 
But  since  indeed  thou  must  be  gone, 
Thou  bearest  to  the  battle-field 
Two  hearts,  alas,  mine  own  and  thine, 
And  leavest  me  alone  to  pine: 
May  Christ  thee  shield  !"2 


XXXI.  Sir  Christian  von  Hamle. 

The  happy  place  the  print  yet  seems  to  bear.3 

O  that  the  meadow  could  converse 
Like  Poll  in  her  cage  of  glass, 
For  then  he  might  to  me  rehearse 
How  pleased  and  soothed  he  was, 
When  my  lady,   did  across   him  pass, 
Gathering  flowers,   and   moved  her  dainty  feet 
O'er  his  green  grass. 

Sir  Lawn,  I  do  imagine  your  delight, 
Whenas  my  lady  you  have  seen 
Reaching  down  her  hands  so  white 
To  gather  your  flowers   sheen! 
Give  me  your  leave,  most  noble  Green, 
To  set  my  happy  feet,  I  do  entreat, 
Where  hers  have  been. 

Sir  Lawn,  pray  that  my  sorrow  she  may  heal, 
The  lady  I  adore, 

And  I  will  pray  that  you  this  year  may  feel 
Her  bare  feet  skim  you  o'er : 

1)  LD,  LI,  70. 

2)  See  H.  v.  M.,  p.  185. 

3)  Wald.  p.  60;  Tennyson,  ^Maud'1,  ''Her  feet  have  touched  the  meadows", 
and  "the  meadows  your  walks  have  left  so  sweet". 


122 


The  snow  shall  then  not  harm  you  as  before 
And  as  your  clover  sweet,  if  me  she  greet, 
Shall  rav  heart  bloom  evermore. 


XXXII.   Sir  Ulrich  von  Liechtenstein, 

The  Sewer  of  Styria. 

1. 

Love,  whose  month  was  ever  May. 

When  with  May  the  air  is  sweet, 
When  the  forest  fair  is  clad, 
All  that  have  a  love  to  meet 
Pair  in  pleasure,  lass  and  lad. 
Merrily  arm  in  arm  they  go, 
For  the  time  will  have  it  so. 

Love  and  love,  when  linked  together, 
Love  goes  with  to  keep  them  gay: 
All  the  three,  this  sunshine  weather, 
They  are  making  holiday. 
Sorrow  cannot  come  between 
Hearts  where  Love  and  May  are  seen. 

Where  to  love  sweet  love  is  plighted, 
Constant  and  with  all  the  soul, 
And  the  pair  are  so  united 
That  their  love  is  sound  and  whole : 
God  shall  make  them  man  and  wife 
For  the  bliss  of  all  their  life. 

He  that  finds  a  constant  heart, 
Constant  love,  and  constant  mind, 
All  his  sorrows  shall  depart. 
Love,  when  constant,  is  so  kind 
That  it  makes  a  constant  breast 
Evermore  content  and  blest. 

Could  I  find  affection  true, 
So  sincere  should  be  mine  own: 
We  should  conquer,  being  two, 
Care  I  cannot  kill  alone.1 

i)  Cf.  Earl  of  Sterling: 

"And  while  we  thus  should  make  our  sorrows  one, 
This  happy  harmony  would  make  them  none." 


—      123     — 

Constant  love  is  all  my  care: 
Love  inconstant  I   forbear. 

2. 

Here's  a  song  that  ladies  call  a  dance : 
Sing  it  no  one  with  a  heart  unmoved; 
He  whose  soul  a  woman's  smiles  entrance, 
He  who  wears  joy's  garland  unreproved, 
Hath  my  leave  to  lilt  the  measure  fleet, 
And  dance  our  merry  hays  with  nimble  feet. 

Whom  on  earth  does  sorrow  aught  avail? 
Only  sinners  brooding  o'er  their  sins. 
Ladies  list  not  to  a  doleful  tale : 3 
Merry  wit  and  bold  their  favour  wins. 
Therefore  I  for  evermore  will  make 
Life  a  banquet  for  my  lady's  sake. 

Magic  in  thy  speech  to  lure  me  lies, 
And  to  see  thy  ways  is  to  be  thine. 
Dews  of  joy  in  thy  heart's  depths   arise, 
Thence  to  flow  in  all  these  limbs  of  mine. 
God  so  toiled  on  thee,  thy  body  bright 
Bears  the  sigil  of  his  own  delight.2 

Charms  and  beauty,  lady,  are  thy  dower. 
I  behold  thee,  and  my  sorrow  dies. 
Round  about  thee  blooms  an  Eden's  bower, 
All  a  wilderness  is  Paradise. 
God  ne'er  fashioned  angel s  half  so  fair 
I  would  look  at  if  thyself  were  there. 

3. 

She  lieth  in  my  heart, 
Who  hath  inspired  this  strain: 

1)  Cf.    Carew,    "Boldnesse  in  Love";    Chaucer,    Romaunt   of  the  Rose:    "Be 
thou   as  joyful  as  thou  can,  Love  hath  no  joy  of  sorrowful  man."   "Sir  Thos.  Wyatt, 
"That  Right  cannot  govern  Fancy":   "Therefore  I  played  the  fool  in  vain  With  pity 
when  I  first  began  Your  cruel  heart  for  to  constrain,   Since  love  regardeth  no  doubtful 
man";  CB,  CLXXII,  4;  E.  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p.  117;   Waldb.  p.  46. 

2)  Cf.  MF,  49,    37  seq.;    141,    9;   Walt.,   18,    n;    39,  25—30;   E.Schmidt, 
Reinm.,  p.  87;  Wack.,  Kl.  Sch.,  I,  p.  158;  Michel,  p.  45,  237. 

3)  Cf.  CB,  94a,  2;  Walt.,  52,  34;    LD,  LIK  ,   16;  Wilm.,  Leben,  III,  76. 


—      124     — 

There  lieth  too  a  restless   smart, 
All  and  a  yearning  pain. 
It  grieveth  me, 

But  with  the  two  of  them  lie  must  she, 
Unless  of  both  she  make  me  free. 

4. 

Joy  is  good:  why  should  we  sorrow 
And  despair? 

Joy  from  women  let  us  borrow, 
Free  from  care. 

We  for  women's  sake  must  treasure 
Joy,  for  joy  a  woman  gives. 
Honoured  is  the  man  whose  pleasure 
On  a  lady's  favour  lives. 

Then  to  women  let  our  laughter, 
Dance,  and  song 

Speak  our  thanks.     The  knight  that,  after 
Service  long, 

Gains  a  noble  lady's  greeting, 
In  the  proof  the  nobler  grows. 
He  whose  ardour  is  but  fleeting 
Finds  no  solace  for  his  woes. 

Water  straightway  fire  does  smother, 
Puts  it  out. 

Light  and  darkness  hate  each  other, 
Do  not  doubt. 

Worthy  sir,  if  you  are  troubled 
By  a  care,  I  do  assure  you, 
Left  alone,  it  will  be  doubled: 
Only  woman's  love  can  cure  you.1 

Love,  I  call  out  of  my  yearning, 
And  my  woe! 

Feel  how  fierce  my  heart  is  burning! 
Even  snow 
By  this  heat  would  be  ignited 

i)  A  more  defiant  outlook  on  love's  cares  in  the  "Liederbuch  der  Klara 
Hatzlerin"  (Ausg.  von  Haltaus  LXIX,  Nr.  u):  If  I  have  love,  then  I  have  care; 
If  I  have  not  love,  black  despair.  Leave  loving  for  a  death  in  life!  I'll  love,  though 
love  with  care  be  rife."  Do.  55,  3:  "Love  brings  woe,  as  heat  brings  rain." 


—     125     — 

Which  consumes  me.     Love,  if  thou 
Art  by  constancy  delighted, 
Surely  thou  wilt  help  me  now! 

5. 

Te  intra  claustra  tenebo. 

A  maiden  said: 
"Mistress,  the  morning  stains 
The  grey  of  night  with  red. 
Look  toward  your  window-panes ! 
Clear  rises  the  sun,  and  the  warder  is  away 

From  the  turrets;  now  your  love  must  not  delay, 
If  he  would  not  be  taken  here." 

The  lady  bright 

With  kisses  wakened  him  and  sighs. 
The  noble  knight 

He  saith:  "Thou  loadstar  of  mine  eyes, 
Higher  than  dawn  is  day:  away  I  may  not  win: 

Canst  thou  not  hide  me   somewhere  here   within? 
This  is  my  counsel  and  desire." 

"If  thou  couldst  glide 
Here  where  thy  manly  image  lies, 
Then  could  I  hide 
Thy  body  dear  safe  in  mine  eyes. 
Still,  if  thou  wilt  in  my  lady's  bower  be  pent, 

To  pass  the  day  in  merriment, 
Thou  wert   concealed   not  ill." 

"Let  me  e'en  lie 

Where  it  shall  please  thee  I  remain: 
But  not  that  I 
Shall  be  unguarded  slain. 

Should        they  find  me,  warn  me  straight,  as  thou  art  true 
If  I  draw  my  sword,  then  in  God's  name,  and  who 
Avoids  me  not,  must  shed  his  blood." 

The  bolts  she  drew; 
And  in  the  prison  of  her  arms 
She  pent  him  through 
The  day,  and  shielded  him  from  harms. 
Went          the  anxious  day  in  fear  of  spies?     Ah  no! 


—        126       — 

Their  joy  was  such  they  recked  not  of  the  foe. 
So  short  a  day  he  ne'er  had  spent. 

When  the  day  was  done, 
Love's  nearer  blisses  they  renewed: 
More  ways  than  one 
They  knew  to  gain  beatitude. 

Never,  methinks,  such  joy  a  woman  had  of  man 

As  she  of  him:  but  pleasure's  hour-glass  ran, 
And   in  the    shadows   they  must   sever. 

Farewells  were  ta'en 
With  tears  and  kisses  wild  repeated; 
To  come   again 

Eftsoon  her  rosy  lips  entreated. 

"Bright          chalice  of  all  my  joys  by  day  and  night", 
He  saith,  "thou  glittering  sun  of  my  heart's  May,1 
Thou  gift  and  guard  of  my  delight !" 


XXXIII.   Sir  Burkhard  von  Hohenfels. 

1. 
Winter  be  greeted  by  lads  and  lasses, 

Dancing  in  heated  rooms  till  it  passes. 

Follow  your  bent ! 

Let  us  be  winking  and  smiling  and  blinking  on  love  intent. 

Languidly  trailing,  lustily  springing, 

Bagpipes  are  failing  dance  we  to  singing! 

Pluck  up  your  skirts ! 
And  as  it  please  you  we  seize  you  and  squeeze  you ;  you  little  flirts ! 

No  youth  be  losing  his  hopes  and  his  chances ! 

Now  all  are  choosing  the  girl  that  entrances. 

Love  and  be  blest! 
And  if  she  odd  is,  prod  you  her  bodice,  and  tickle  her  chest. 

He  is  a  double  idiot  who  troweth 

True  love  to  trouble ;  stronger  it  groweth ; 

Who  can  love  fright? 
Slyly  it  baiteth  the  hook  and  then  waiteth  for  passion  to  bite. 

i)  Cf.  MF,   140,   15 — 1 6  ("She  is   the  bright   May's   shining  and  my  Easter- 
day");    144,  29 —  30;  Weinh.  I,  232  and  234;  Knorr,  p.  89. 


—        I27       — 

Joy  they  inherit  who  are  love's  minions. 

Now  let  our   spirit  stretch  out  her  pinions, 
And  lustily  flap! 

My  girl  advances  and  glances:  my  chance  is  to  fall  in  the  trap! 


Metuens  verbera  linguae. 

"I'll  fling  my  heels  now 
And  romp  with  all  the  other  lassies ! 
Only  a  maid-of-all-work  feels  how 
Wearily  the  May-time  passes, 
Washing  up   cups  and  dishes. 
But  now  my  year  is  up,  thank  Heavens! 
I  don't  care  what  the  Missis  wishes : 
And  we  are  at  sixes  and  sevens. 
Better  a  straw  hat  and  a  happy  mind 
Than  a  rose  garland  in  the  house  confined." 

"On  me  take  pity," 

The  girl  she  played  with  L  answered,  linking 
Her  arm  in  hers :  "You're  poor  and  pretty  — 
Better  than  being  rich,  I'm  thinking. 
I  wish  I  were  poor  like  you: 
We  would  go  and  try  our  luck  together: 
Go  roving,  and  ever  be  seeing  something  new 
In  wind  and  sunny  weather. 
Better  a  straw  hat  and  a  happy  mind 
Than  a  rose  garland  in  the  house  confined. 

It  does  so  spite  me  — 
Just  think  of  it,  granny's  in  such  a  funk 
She's  taken  my  summer  dress  —  the  white  one  — 
And  locked  it  away  from  me  down  in  the  trunk. 
If  she  catches  me  sulking,  alack! 
I'm  in  love,  and  if  she  happens  to  see 
A  smile  on  my  face,  she  is  on  my  track, 
And  someone's  in  love  with  me ! 
Better  a  straw  hat  and  a  happy  mind 
Than  a  rose  garland  in  the  house  confined." 

i)  A  "maget"  and  uir  gespil"  also  LD,  XXV,  182  seq.;  266  seq.;  XXXIV,  161 
seq.;  CB,  65. 


—        128       — 

—  "Well,   dear,  don't  cry! 
You'll  make  yourself  look  like   a  scarecrow. 
To-morrow   morning  you    and   I 
Will  take  French  leave,  and  settle  where  no 
Trace  to  track  us  e'er  shall  lead  to. 
I'll  teach  you  how  to  tailor  clothes  - 
But  if  you  don't  like,  you  don't  need  to; 
I  can  manage  for  both,  I   suppose. 
Better  a  straw  hat  and  a  happy  mind 
Than  a  rose  garland  in  the  house  confined." 

-  "No,  that  won't  do! 

But  I'll  pay  her  out  before  I'm  much  older.  — 
If  anyone  winks  at  me,  never  mind  who, 
I'll  take  a  peep  at  him  over  my  shoulder. 
She  tells  me  I've  got  to  dodge 
The  knights  that  come  a-courting  me  — 
As  sure  as  I'm  here,  I'll  encourage  Bob  Hodge, 
And  won't  she  be  riled!     You'll  see! 
Better  a  straw  hat  and  a  happy  mind 
Than  a  rose  garland  in  the  house  confined." 


XXXIV.  The  Burgrave  of  Liienz. 

I  dum  favet  nox. 

Went  a  maid  fair  to  behold 
To  the  warder  on  the  castle  wall : 
"Warder,  be  thou  glad  and  bold! 
If  any  creep,  when  shadows  fall, 
To  thee,  then  whisper:  'Who  goes  there?' 
But  with  a  humble  voice  and  low. 
If  'yes'  he  answer,  have  no  care : 
That  he  is  welcome,  thou  mayst  know; 
To  the  bower  window  guide  my  lord: 
Our  chatelaine  shall  well  reward." 

In  the  wall's   shadow,  very   soon, 
The  well-beloved  holds  his  breath : 
Keen  is  the  warder  on  his  boon, 
And  "Who  is  there!"  he  whispereth.  - 
"It  is  I  who  am  Love's  paladin: 


—     129     — 

Keep  thou  thy  watch  upon  thy  tower." 
"I  will  not  stay  to  guide  you  in! 
Ye  are  of  courtesy  the  flower." 
Soon  to  the  bower  the  knight  was  led: 
He   kissed   his   lady's   lips   so   red. 

"The  sun  is  at  the  heaven's  brim", 
Sang  a  warder  o'er  the  window-sill : 
"Who  sleepeth  long,  the   worse  for  him; 
I  warn  you  with  a  right  good  will. 
And  I  am  innocent  of  all 
If  aught  should  hap  to  lovers  twain. 
No  man  the  darkness  can  recall: 
The   morning  star   is   bright   again 
Over  the  cradle  of  the  day. 
Thou  trusty  knight,  up  and  away." 

Tears  filled  the  gentle  lady's  eyes, 
When  such  shrill  song  her  dreams  awoke 
"My  knight,  it  dawns,  thou  must  arise!" 
In   frightened   loveliness   she   spoke. 
"Let  me  be  dearest  unto  thee, 
As  thou  to  me  my  dearest  art; 
And,  as  I  hold  thy  heart  with  me, 
I  grudge  thee  not  to   hold  my  heart. 
To  the  highest  God  I  thee  confide ; 1 
O  woe  that  thou  must  leave  my  side!" 

With  many  a  rich  and  tender  word 
He  comforts  her  who  fills  his  soul ; 
Such   speech  as  is   of  lovers  heard 
Comes  quick  from  love  beyond  control. 
Sweet  interchange  of  agonies, 
With  many  a  kiss  and  long  delay: 
Her  heart  did  break  a  way  to  his, 
As  closely  in  his  arms  she  lay. 

i)  Cf.  Old  Fr.  song,  Bartsch,  Chrest.,  4th  edit.,  col.  281: 
Beaus  dous  amis,  vos  en  irez: 
A  Dieu  soil  vos  cors  commandez! 
For  Dieu  vos  pri,  ne  m'obl'iez! 
Je  n'aim  nule  rien  tant  com  vos. 
Bithell,  The  Minnesingers.     I. 


—      130     — 

After  joys  come  often  woes : 
From  her  embrace  the  hero  goes. 


XXXV.   Sir  Gottfried  von  Neifen. 

1. 

Icicles  and  rime 
Hold  the  moorlands  bound. 
Lies  the  bird  his  song  that  trolled, 
In  the  good  May  time, 
Frozen  on  the   ground, 
Under  branches  bare  and  cold. 
But  a  sorrow  far  more  fell 
Than  the  winter  snows,1 
Giveth  she  who  goes, 
Goes  to  carry  water  in  pitchers  from  the  well. 

I  her  pitcher  broke 
Into  little  sherds : 
Meeting  her  my  heart  was  wild. 
Angrily  she  spoke: 
Angry   were  her  words, 
But  her  eyes  belied  the  child. 
"Deary   me !  what  shall   I   do  ? 
Missis  will   belay   me, 
She  will  nearly  slay  me  — 
Five  times  she  belaboured  me  yesterday  for  you." 

-  "Never  mind,  I'll  teach  you 
How  you  may  outwit  her: 
Just  you  run  away  with  me 
Where  she  cannot  reach  you."  — 

i)  Cf.  MF,   169,  9  seq.: 

"I  have  a  grief  that  truly  hath  no  fellow, 

But  not  for  winter's  sake. 

What  if  the  moorland's  green  is  growing  yellow? 

No  plaint  for  this  I  make; 

For  there  are  things  that  bring  far  sadder  hours, 

And  I  have  more  to  do  than  to  bemoan  the  flowers." 


"Rather  I'll  be  hit,  sir! 

If  she  kills  me,  hanged  she'll  be  — 

That  will  keep  her  hands  from  killing; 

So,  for  all  she  rages, 

I  shall  get  my  wages ; 

And  a  shirt  she  owes  rne  yet  and  a  silver  shilling." 

2. 

Weep  not,  my  wanton,  .smile  upon   my  knee. 

"If  I  am  to  be  tormented, 
While  the  happy  summer  passes, 
By  a  baby,  woe  is  me! 
I  shall  simply  go  demented, 
If  I  cannot  join  the  lasses 
Dancing  round  the  linden  tree. 
Hush-a-baby!     Pa  is  steeping, 
When  O  when  will  dawn  be  peeping? 
Hush-a-baby,  I  will  rock  thee  till  the  morning. 

Nurse,  come  you  and  stop  its  bawling! 
Put  it  in  its  cradle,  wrap  it 
Snug,  and  rock  it :  take  it  out ! 
You  can,  soothe  it,  it's  your  calling ! 
If  it  won't  be  quiet,   slap  it: 
Stop  its  mouth  while  I'm  about. 
Hush-a-baby!     Pa  is   sleeping, 
When  O  when  will  dawn  be  peeping? 
Hush-a-baby,  I   will  rock  thee  till  the   morning."  1 

i)  The  grotesque  refrain  of  the  original  has  been  revived  by  Scheffel  in  his 
Vogt  von  Tenneberg.  See  Frau  Aventiure  (Stuttgart  1881,  p.  250).  Cf.  Simrock, 
Die  Deutschen  Volkslieder  279: 

"You,  when  merry  maidens  meeting 
Go  together,  sweet  with  sweeting, 
To  the  dancing-hall  away, 

Will  be  sitting  by  the  fender, 
Young  wife  with  your  body  tender, 
Rocking  baby  all  the  day. 

Singing  'Lambkin,  shut  thy  peepers, 
Sleep  like  little  seven -day -sleepers, 
Go  to  sleep,  my  mannikin'." 
=  Conrad  Ferdinand  Meyer's  "Geh',  und  lieb',  und  leide." 

9* 


3. 

De  Wilgen  gaan  te  koor. 

Now  women's  whims  go  wTith  the  moon, 
As  do  the  ocean  billows. 
It  was  upon  the  hour  of  noon, 
I  met  one  by  the  willows. 
Threshing  flax, 
She  thwacks,  she  thwacks,  she  thwacks. 

"Good  morrow  to  thee,  thou  maiden  sweet!" 
I  say,  and  kisses  waft  her. 
Then  nearer  stept,   she  backwards  leapt, 
And  I  would  follow  after. 
Threshing  flax, 
She  thwacks,  she  thwacks,  she  thwacks. 

"This  is  no  brothel,  Sir",  she  said, 
"Beneath  these  soughing  sallows. 
Ere  you  fulfil  on  me  your  will 
I'll  see  you  on  the  gallows." 
Threshing  flax, 
She  thwacks,  she  thwacks,  she  thwacks. 


XXXVI.   Der  Taler. 

Comin'  thro'  the  rye.1 

Poet.  —  Yes,  the  song  will  do :  it's  fine  enough  for  her  to  love  it. 
Here,  Conrad  lad,  be  off  with  all  the  speed  thou  mayest, 
And  sing  it  thus:  'Thou  that  my  heart  did  ever  covet, 
Beloved,  say!  shall  this  the  bleeding  heart  thou  flayest 
Ne'er  be  vouchsafed  to  gaze  upon  thee  at  thy  gayest?' 
Hand  her  the  scroll,  and  sing  the  ditty  in  your  finest  style : 
And  if  you've  any  eye  for  beauty  you'll  run  every  mile. 

First  Gleeman.     "Wouldn't  it  be  better,  think  you,  to  send 

Harry  off? 

I  sing  all  right,  I  daresay,  but  he  sings  just  as  nice, 
And  he  knows  the  beat,  and,  as  you  hear,  I've  got  a  cough. 

i)  This  poem  reminds  one  of  the  opening  stanzas  of  "Gil  Morrice".  That 
the  conveying  of  such  messages  was  dangerous  may  be  seen,  for  instance,  in  Conrad 
von  Wurzburg's  "Herzmaere".  See  Rowbotham,  u Troubadours",  p.  152. 


—      133 

And  he  isn't  as  overworked  as   I,   and  he  won't   need  asking 

twice. 
He  won't,  you  say?     Then  take  a  stick,  and  give  him  a  piece 

of  advice." 
S  e  c'o  n  d   G  1  e  e  m  a  n.     "Conrad,  you   rascal",   says   Harry,   "I'll 

be  in  with  you  by  and  by ! 

Do  you  think  I  want  to  be  killed  by  a  farmer  in  his  rye?" 
Poet.     Conrad,  my  lad,  I'll  be  taking  a  stick  to  you ! 

Be   off   with  you   quick,   if  you    don't   want   to   catch   a   good 

drubbing. 
Creep    into   the    rye   beside    the    path    till    she   comes   walking 

through. 
If  the  time   drags  while  you're   waiting,   the   corn   is   ripe   for 

rubbing : 
And  if  that's  not  enough  your  belly  to  stuff  you  can  spend  the 

day  there  grubbing: 
There  are  apples  all  about  the  place,  and  berries  and  cherries 

galore, 
And  you  can  fill  your  pockets  till  they  won't  hold  any  more. 


XXXVII.   Sir  Uirich  von  Winterstetten. 

Now  his  rapture  summer  time 
Spreads  before  our  eyes : 
Let  him  look,  who  sings   in  rime, 
What  material  lies  x 
On  the  broad  heath  and  leafy  trees. 
He  with  delight 
May  mark  how  sweetly  dight 
Are  all  the  leas 

With  primroses  and  pied   anemones.2 
It  is  a  proverb  old  and  tried : 3 
"Thy  treasure-trove  is  where  thy  fancies  bide."  4 


1)  "Documents"  seem  to  have  existed  before  the  time  of  the  Goncourts! 

2)  A  passage  I  cannot  at  the  moment  locate: 

"Mit  dem  Weisz  der  Anemonen 

Mischt  sich  der  Primel  gelber  Glast." 

Mrs.  Humphrey  Ward,  "Marriage   of  William  Ashe":    "a  wood  delicately  pied  with 
primroses  and  anemones." 

3)  Cf.  Oswald  63,  i.  4)  Cf.  St.  Luke  12,  34;   Wilm.,  Leben  III,  211. 


Now  for  sure  my  search  is  crowned 
With  a  treasure-trove 
Underneath   a  bright   star   found: 
And  my  fancies  rove 

To  the  pure  mountain  heights  and  cold, 
Where  my  heart's  proud 
Mistress  by  love  unbowed 
Unstained  does  hold 
Her  soul  serene  and  beauties  ma,nifold. 
It  is  a  proverb  old  and  tried: 
'Thy  treasure-trove  is  where  thy  fancies  bide." 

He  that  treasure  finds,  with  thrift 
Let  the  man  employ  it: 
Yea,  but  I  can  nowise  lift 
Mine,  nor  eke  enjoy  it. 
My  treasure-trove  is  useless  so ; 
For  why?     Youth's  foeman, 
The  wretch  who  pities  no  man, 
High  or  low, 

Drove  through  my  heart  a  dart  with  his  good  bow. 
It  is  a  proverb  old  and  tried: 
"Thy  treasure-trove  is  where  thy  fancies  bide." 


XXXVIII.   Der  von  Sachsendorf. 

In  this  new  tune 

I  should  be  glad  new  songs  to  sing, 

But  the  measure  goes  too  quick  to  sing  by  rote  x  — 

Sing  for  a  lady's  boon  I  saw  in  June, 

Dancing  round  the  linden  in  the  ring: 

To  praise  her  veil  and  snow-white  throat. 

As  supple  as  a  willow-wand  2  was  she ; 

1)  Cf.    (Bartsch  "Grundrisz  der  prov.  Lit."  p.  n)   "Un  pauc  soi  las  que  trop 
o   haul  lo  sos." 

2)  Cf.  William   Dunbar,    The  Golden  Targe:    "middles    small    as    wands." 
Suchenwirt  (quoted  by  Weinh.  I,  227)  describes  the  ideal  woman's  figure: 

Moderately  tall, 

Plump  and  boldly  curved  withal, 

With  slender  waist. 


—     135     — 

And  O  that  I   by  night   her  page  1]  might  be ! 
Ah  me !     Upon  her  rounded  limbs  I  dote. 


XXXIX.   Sir  Reinmar  von  Zweter. 
1. 

All  schools  are  naught 

Compared  to  that  where  love  is  taught: 

The  palm  on  Mistress  Love  must  be  conferred. 

Her  ferula  does  any  savage  awe 

That  he  will  do  what  ne'er  he  heard  or  saw: 

Who  of  a  nobler  school  e'er  saw  or  heard? 

Love  teaches  gallant  greetings,  meet 

To  move  a  lady,  sayings  sweet, 

And  to  be  generous  to  all; 

Love  teaches  virtue,  and  a  mien  sedate, 

And  the  young  squires  to  emulate 

Their  courtly  sires  in  battle  and  in  hall. 

2. 

I  trow  ye  know  so  many  a  wondrous  tale 

How  through  the  years  in  glory  was  the   Grail 

Guarded,  that  the  world's  kingdoms  all  outweighs. 

Now  to  the  Grail  I  liken,  you  will  sure 

Confirm  their  even  worth,  a  woman  pure ; 

For  chastity  is  decked  with  wise  men's  praise. 

And  would  ye  strive  this   modern   Grail  to  attain, 

See  that  your  chastity  hath  ne'er  a  stain, 

Like  them  who  tended  then  the  sacred  bowl; 

And  show  to  noble  women  reverence, 

Whose  blessing  on  a  man  is  a  defence 

'Gainst  Shame  and  all  her  kin  to   keep  him  whole. 

Wolfram  von  Eschenbach  compares  such  a  figure  to  an  ant,  and  a  slender  girl  to  the 
twig  of  a  tree  or  a  candle.  The  neck  was  to  be  of  such  fine  whiteness  that  the 
wine  the  lady  drank  could  be  seen  through  the  skin.  H.  v.  Mont  fort  V,  48  —  50: 
"Dame  Venus  had  measured  her  limbs  out  with  a  compass." 

i)  "schiltgeverte",  cf.  LD,  LXXI,  28;  R.  v.  Z.,  Roethe,   161,3. 


--      136 

3. 

Knightly  was  wont  to  be  the  tournament: 

Now  it  is  bestial,  mad,  and  murderous  in  intent; 

Murderous  knife  and  murderous  club  to-day 

Rule  the  new  lists  for  mercy  of  the  old ; 

And  ladies'  eyes  are  red,  their  blood  runs  cold 

To  know  their  husbands  in  the  deadly  fray. 

And  where  for  proof  of  bravery   men   jousted 

Dignity  and  chivalry  are  ousted. 

For  a  mere  blanket's   sake,  in  days  now  gone, 

Men  did  not  seek  a  brother's  life  to  spill: 

But  he  who  does  it  now,  and  hath  the  skill, 

Him  thinks  he  is  a  wondrous  champion. 

4. 

Hair,  beard,  and  monks'  attire 
Cut  as  the  order's  rules  require 
Sufficeth;  but  the  Brothers  think  not  so. 
And  perfect  knights  are  those  that  fear  no  foe. 
Half  fish,  half  man,  is  neither  man  nor  fish : 
All  fish  is  fish;  all  man  is  man:  but  naught  I  wish 
Of  court-monks   and  cloister-knights  to  know. 
If  I  could  find  them,  I  would  make  them  hot 
With  gibes :  but  where  they  should  be  they  are  not 
They  rather  are  upon  the  road  to  Hell. 
Monks,  ye  will  climb  to  Heaven  pent  in  your  cell ; 
Knights,  where  the  King  is,  there  renown  is  got. 

5. 

Ores  imite  C6sar. 

He  that  would  curse,  and  hath  the  right  to  curse, 
Let  him  take  care  his  words  are  not  the  worse 
For  fleshly  anger,  lest  God  foil  the  ban. 
He  that  with  God  does  excommunicate, 
And  in  God,  is  God's  faithful  delegate; 
And  he  that  fears  no  curse  is  no  wise   man. 
But  he  that  in  the  stole  does  overwhelm 
With  curses,  and  then  underneath  the  helm 
Plunders  and  burns,  with  two  swords  fights  his  foe. 
Now  if  in  God's  name  such  a  thing  must  be, 
Surely  St.  Peter  will  be  shamed  that  he 
Thought  not  of  it  when  he  was  here  below. 


—     137     — 

6. 

I  saw  a  lady  on  a  wall  pourtrayed  - 
A  lady  fair.     On  Fortune's  wheel  was  laid 
Her  hand,  and  round  she  spun  it  like  a  child's  plaything. 
Four  men  were  on  the  wheel,  and  uppermost 
There  sat  a  monarch,  as  I  heard  his  boast. 
Lithe  clomb  the  second:  "Soon  am  I  a  happy  king." 
A  third  breathed  faint :  "My  voice  is  humble  grown : 
I  was  an  king,  and  lo,  where  I  am  thrown !" 
The  fourth  was  lying  underneath  the  wheel's 
Rim :  a  most  hapless  man  was  he,  and  hope 
No  jot  had  he  out  of  his  woe  to  grope.  - 
Take  note !     Thus  round  and  round  with  us  the  earth's 
globe  reels! 

7. 

A  most  unhappy  man  dwelt  in  a  spot 
Where  all  his  labour  could  not  mend  his  lot. 
Thought  he :  "In  other  lands  my  fortune  I  may  find", 
Arid  girt  his  loins  to  venture  on  his  fate : 
But  Misery  rose  to  be  his  travelling-mate. 
Right  through  a  wood  he  ran  to  leave  the  hag  behind, 
And  laughed:  "O  Misery,  now  I  have  outrun  thee!" 
Straight  came  the  answer :  "Nay,  I  have  outdone  thee !  — 
Fast  as  thou  rann'st,  as  fast  ran  I,  and  clomb 
To  make   upon  thy  neck  a  resting-place." 
He  bowed  his  head:  "I  will  return  apace: 
If  needs  I  must,  then  I  will  be  thy  slave  at  home." 

8. 

A  fisher  dreamed :  he  should  not  waste  his  bait 
On  the  small  fish,  but  only  catch  the  great, 
To  free  his  family  from  poverty. 
So,  as  the  dream  expressed,  he  took  no  care 
Of  the  small  fish,  intent  on  better  fare ; 
But  dreams  have  had  their  sport  of  more  than  he. 
Rich  in  great  cares  the  fisherman  thus  grew, 
Like  many  men  that  in  my  life  I  knew, 
Who  for  the  pennies  never  cared  a  fig; 
And,  as  they  could  not  net  prodigious  gains, 


i38     - 

They  were  the  fools  of  all  their  senseless  pains, 
Scorning  the  small  and  fishing  for  the  big. 

9. 

The   eastern  sun  mounts  till  the  midday   burns, 

Then  to  the  west  his  downward  course   he   turns ; 

And  so  it  is  with  man  if  God  prolong  his  breath. 

Upward  he  goes  till  forty  years  are  told, 

And  then  he  sinks  to  the  pale  evening's  cold; 

It  boots  him  to  pass  well  into  the  night  of  death! 

If  steadfast  he  have  travelled  on  the  path 

Direct,  and  at  the  ending  honour  hath, 

Now  that  the  course  of  life  is  run, 

And  such  have  been  his  deeds  on  earth 

His  soul  is  worthy  a  new  birth, 

How  beautiful  it  rises  with  another   sun! 

10. 

Sir  Cock,  to  you  the  first  place  I  award 
In  bravery's  annals,  for  you  are  the  lord 
And  master  of  your  wives,  although  you  have  so  many. 
Now  for  my  sins  God  gave  but  one  to  me, 
But  she  has  robbed  me  of  my  sanity, 
And  all  the  joy  she  leaves  me  is  not  worth  a  penny. 
Had  I  two  such  I  should  not  dare  to  laugh, 
Four  and  I  would  prepare  mine  epitaph, 
Eight  and  the  sexton  straight  my  grave  should  delve. 
I  should  be  torn  in  shreds  within  an  hour! 
Sir  Cock,  thank  God  that  he  has  given  you  power, 
For  your  good  luck  to  master  even  twelve. 

11. 

I  came  a-riding  in  a  far  countrie 
On  a  blue  goose,  and  strange  things  I  did  see. 
There  was  a  crow  and  hawk  that  in  a  brook 
Fished  many  a  swine ;  a  falcon  by  a  bear 
Was  hunted  in  the  upper  realms  of  air; 
Midges  were  playing  chess;  and  I  did  look 
Upon  a  stag  that  span  the  fine  silk  thread; 
A  wolf  was  shepherd  of  the  lambs  that  fed 


—      139 

In  the  willow  tops;  a  cock  caught  in  a  trap 
Three  giants;  and  a  coney  trained  a  hound; 
A  crab  raced  with  a  dove  and  won  a  pound. 
If  this  is  true,  an  ass  can  sew  a  cap. 

12. 

There  was  a  brother  that  his  brother  slew 

Or  ere  was  born  the  father  of  the  two. 

Let  a  wise  man  consider  if  he  comprehend. 

And  after  this  a  strong  bridge  I  espied, 

Built  in  one  night  over  a  river  wide, 

Such  as  no  king  could  build  wherever  you  may  wend. 

Then  two  there  came  who  broke  the  bridge  straightway: 

Never  a  word  did  either  say:  — 

One  of  them  you  could  see  and  never  hear: 

The  other  you  could  hear  and  never  see. 

I  say,  though  men  should  have  their  gibe  at  me, 

The  two  destroyed  the  bridge  and  made  the  river  clear. 

13. 

A  hedge  that  for  three  years  has  blossomed  is  a  hedge  grown  up: 
A  dog  three  times  that  hedge's  age  no  longer  is  a  pup : 
A  horse  thrice  older  than  the  dog  is  old  enough  in  sooth: 
A  man  as  the  horse  three  times  as  old 
For  women  he  is  far  too  cold  — 

Unfit  to  be  loved  for  all  the  fire  he  struck  from  a  helm  in  youth; 
And  he  who  calls  him  forth  to  fight  hath  shent 
Heraldic  laws  of  ancient  tournament. 
A  horse  as  old  as  this  I  speak  of  is  indeed  a  hack: 
But  if  you  ask  me  prove  the  thing  I  swear, 
Sir  Hover  here  shall  witness  bear: 
Three  generations  of  a  horse  lie  heavy  on  his  back. 

14. 

"I  am  a  lion,"  a  grasshopper  swore; 
A  cricket,  "I'm  a  wild  boar" ; 
A  bull  said  he  sung  better  than  the  nightingale ; 
An  ape,  "I  have  the  sweetest  phiz"; 
And  a  fool,  "I  am  the  wisest  man  what  is ;" 
A  snail,  "I  can  outdo  the  leopard's  leaps  on  hill  and  dale!" 


—      140     — 

A  blackamoor,  "None  is  so  white  as  I"; 

A  hare,  "I  dare  at  the  wolf  fly"; 

"Smooth  is   my  hide,"  a  hedgehog  cries ; 

"If  I   should  say  it  on  my  oath, 

Methinks  an  empress  were  not  loth 

To  cushion  me  upon  her  breast."     These  are  strong  lies. 


XL.  Sir  Rudolf  von  Rotenburg. 

A  Messenger  from  Radiant  Climes. 

God  greet  my  lady  with  "good-day," 
Whom  I  can  greet  no  other  way ! 1 
So  I  speak  ever 
At   morning  light, 
Forgetting  never 
Again  when  evening  falls  to  bid  "good-night!" 

I  lost  my  senses  half,  I  swear, 
When  I  took  leave,  and  she  sat  there 
Before  me  burning 
Like  the  evening  glow.2 
My  home-returning 
Will  blend  its  joy  with  backward  thoughts  of  woe.3 

When  I  took  leave,  she  begged  of  me 
To  send  my  new  songs  o'er  the  sea. 
A  messenger 
Worthy  to  render 
My  lays  in  her 
White  hands,  if  such  I  had  I  soon  would  send  her. 

A  palmer  from  a  far  country 
Brought  tidings  of  my  love  to  me 
Unsought,  and  told  me 
That  she  was  well. 
This  news  consoled  me 
In  sooth  more  than  a  prosperous  oracle. 


1)  Cf. :  bonjour  ait  qui  mon  coeur  a,  n'est  avec  moi.    Walt.,  3,  i;  Osvv.,  81,  I. 

2)  Cf.  MF,   136,  6  —  7. 

3)  Transposing  Dante's  famous  lines  =  ricordarsi  della  miseria  nel  tempo  felice: 
writhing  at  passed  woe,  to  alter  Keats. 


XLI.   Sir  Tannhauser. 
1. 

Moult  a  dur  cuer  qui  en  mai  n'aime. 

The  winter's  dead  and  buried, 
And  the  flowers  bloom  o'er  his  grave ; 
In  pilgrimage  I  hurried 
To  cull  the  blossoms  there  that  wave, 
And  wove  them  into  a  garland  that  I  gave 
To  my  b  i  e  n  a  i  m  e  e. 
A  1 1  o  n  s !    Come  and  dance  around  if  you  desire  to  be  gay ! 

Where   the    dancers    all    repair, 
Violet  and  primevere, 
Crocus,  daffodill  are  there; 
And  I  would  meet  my  lady  by  the  river, 
Where  the  blue-bells  in  the  breezes  quiver. 
She  taketh  me 
To   be   her   d  o  u  x   ami 
And  serviteur  this  May ; 
Pour    ses    beaux   yeux    I'll   join    the    roundelay. 

I  hie 

To  the  forest  nigh; 
Birds  greet  me 
Sweetly  ; 
A  brook 

Runs  gurgling  down  out  of  a  wildwood  nook 
Discreet. 

I  trace  its  course 
Till  at  its  source 
I  come  to  the  feet 

Of  the  most  parfaite  demoiselle, 
La    toute    belle, 
Sitting  to  rest  her  where  the  waters  well. 

I  love  her  that  in  speech  she  is  not  bold, 
And  for  her  gleaming  eyes  of  gracious  mould. 
I  will  not  shun  her  though  I  swoon  and  die  before  her  charms. 
Like  ermine  are  her  arms; 
Her  golden  hair  is  long,  and  such 
In  softness   it  is  silken  to  tlie  touch, 


—      142      — 

And  curling1  to  her  slender  waist  in  waves  enfolds  her; 

Her  bust  is  full,  her  figure  grandelet.  te; 

Shapely  feet,  smooth  legs,  and  thighs  well  set. 

A  knight  must  seek  out  courtly  words  when  he  beholds  her. 

My  heart  beat  high, 
And  so  spake  I : 
"Lady  mine, 
I  am  thine, 
Thou  art  mine: 
So  it  is,  and  ever  shall  be. 
Play  thou  upon  my  heart 
As  on  a  shalmie, 

To  make  it  sound  thy  praise,  who  art 
So  exquisite  thou  spreadest 
On  women  envy  and  on  men  delight  where'er  thou  treadest. 

I  bowed, 

And  wox  at  her  sweet  answer  proud. 
She  bade  me  sing 
Of  the  sheen  of  spring, 
And  of  the  limes  awakening. 

A  table  ronde  with  two  assembled 
In  the  clover, 
And  thereover 

Branches  in  the  breezes  trembled. 
No  other  meiny 
Had  my  queenie. 
I  was  bid 

Do  what  I  should  do, 
And  I  did 

Do  what  I  would  do. 
Long  we  lingered,  deep  descanting: 
Her  savoir  vivre  was  enchanting. 

i)  The  ideal  hair  is  not  only  golden,  or  yellow,  as  I  have  pointed  out  already, 
but  it  is  also  "crisp"  or  "curly",  "reit",  "krisp",  "krus",  v.  Weinh.  I,  p.  223. 
Adjectives  heaped  in  Osw.  3 ,  10 — n:  "raid,  krispel,  krumpel,  krinnen,  kraus,  guld- 
locht,  gel  durchflocket";  4,  10:  "kraus,  plank,  krumliert  das  har";  79,  121 
uvil  locke"  (of  Venus).  Even  Petrarch's  Laura  had  "crespe  chiome  d'or  puro  lucente'; 
(Son.  CCLI,  5).  Matz.  p.  224.  Olivier  de  Magny:  "Ou  prit  I1  enfant  Amour  le  fin 
or  qui  dora  En  mille  crepillons  ta  tete  blondissante?" 


—      143     — 

I  gave  her  gentle  pain. 
I  wish  it  were  to  do  again ! 
She  is  so  sweet  when  she  is  laughing! 

0  the  joking,  O  the  chaffing! 
Of  amor  was  our  s  e  r  m  o. 

She  was   most   kind, 

And  did  not  mind 

That  I  should  do  to  her  as  girls  are  done  to  in  Palermo.3 

I  did  my  utmost  to  delight  her; 
She  was  so  merry  that  1  lost  my  head. 
Richly   may  the   Lord   requite   her. 

1  am  her  captive  willing  to  be  led. 
Up,  up,  Adelheid! 

Be  you  merry  at  my  side! 

Up,  up,  Irmingard, 

Come  and  foot  it  on  the  sward! 

She  who  jumps  not  is  with  child; 

Happy  girls  are  willing  to  be  wild. 

Yonder  sounds  the  tambourine, 
And  the  flute  is  shrilling  keen, 
To  help  us  sing 
And  spring 
In  the  ring; 
Then  come  and  fling 
Your  jolly  heels  a-rollicking ! 

My   Kunigund,   all  blessings   shower 
Upon  thee !     O  if  in  some  bower 
I  a  thousand  times  could  kiss  thee, 
Naught  would  with  my  heart  amiss  be ; 
Thou  canst  heal  the  broken  thing:  O  do! 

-  Oho!     Oho! 
The  fiddle-string  is  broken  too ! 

2. 

My  lady  now  will  grant  the  meed 
Of  vassalage  through  long,  long  years: 
That  you  join  in  my  thanks  I  plead! 
Her  mercy  melteth  me  to  tears. 

i)  Cf.  CB,  CLXXII,   8  and  9. 


—      144 

She  charges  me  to  turn  the  Rhine 

From  Coblentz:  then  will  she, 

She  promises,  be  wholly  mine. 

And  if  I  bring-  her  from  the  sea, 

Where  sinks  the  sun  into  his  rest, 

A  pebble,  then  I  need  not  doubt: 

But  I  must  bring  too,  from  the  west, 

Yon  star  she  cannot  do  without. 

And  I  must  wing  an  eagle's  flight, 

And  rob  the  very  moon  of  light, 

And  wade  in  lire,  for  her  delight, 

To  fetch  the  salamander  sprite. 

My  soul  is  filled 

With  courage  —  though  I  may  be  killed  — 

To  do  whatever  she  hath  willed.1 

Appendix  to  Sir  Tannhauser. 

The  Ancient  Ballad  of  Sir  Tannhiiuser.- 

Now  I  begin  another  song, 
Of  Tannhauser  for  to  tell, 
And  of  his  leman,  fair  Venus, 
With  whom  he  long  did  dwell. 

Tannhauser  was,  as  men  do  say, 
A  goodly  knight  of  pride. 
He  has  wended  his  way  to  the  women  gay, 
Thorough  the  mountain  side. 

"Sir  Tannhauser,  I  love  thee  still! 
Thou  sworest  here  to  won; 
To  love  thy  fill  in  the  hollow  hill, 
And  never  to  get  thee  gone." 

"Now  I  were  loth  to  swear  such  oath : 
I  give  you  back  the  lie. 
And  if  it  were  not  you  who  spoke, 
Then  he  should  surely  die." 

"Sir  Tannhauser,  hold  thy  tongue ! 
Yet  shalt  thou  with  me  tarry; 
And  one  of  these  my  maidens  young 
I  give  thee  now  to  marry." 


i)  Cf.  Walt.,  40,  13  —  16;  Hiippe,  p.  156,  1.  45.         2)  From  the  I5th  century. 


—      145     — 

"If  another  wife  I  take  to  me 
Than  her  I  love  so  well, 
Then  may  I  everlastingly 
Burn  in  the  fire  of  Hell!" 

"Thou  speakest  of  the  fire  of  Hell, 
Which  never  yet  hath  burned  thee! 
Bethink  thee  of  my  red,  red  mouth 
And  that  I  never  spurned  thee." 

"O  what  avails  your  red,  red  mouth, 
That  I  have   come  to  hate? 
Let  me  be  gone  from  thee,  sweet  Venus, 
Ere  that  it  be  too  late." 

"Tannhauser,  wouldest  thou  fain  depart? 
Thou  shalt   not  go   from  me! 

0  stay  with  me  here,   my  Tannhauser  dear, 
In  ravishment  and  glee." 

"O  I  am  growing  thin  and  wan, 
And  ready  for  my   shroud. 
Let  me  e'en  hie  before  I  die, 
All  by  thy  body  proud." 

"Sir  Tannhauser,   speak   no   more! 
Your  mind  is  all  distraught. 
But  in  my  bower  we  will  go  for  an  hour, 
If  love  can  help  you  aught." 

"The  love  of  your  limbs  is  a  loathsome  snare! 

1  am  persuaded  well, 

Beneath  your  hair  and  skin  so  fair 
You  are  a  fiend  from  Hell!" 

"Sir  Tannhauser,  the  words  are  ill, 
And  ye   are   bold  to  chide ! 
In  this  my  hill  ye  must  tarry  still, 
And  dear  those  words  abide." 

"Whatever  you  say,  I  will  not  stay, 
I  may  no  longer  bide ! 
Sweet  Mother  of  God,  now  help  me  away 
From  this  bad  woman's  side!" 

"Now  will  I  give  you  leave  to  fare; 
And  only  this  I  pray  you! 

Bithell,  The  Minnesingers.     I.  IO 


146 

To  sing  my  praises  everywhere. 
The  greybeard  J  will  not  stay  you." 

Tannhauser   from   the  hill   is  boun, 
In  ruth  and  yet  in  hope. 
"I  will  to  Rome,  the  holy   town; 
My  trust   is   in   the   Pope. 

Now  I  set  out  with  heart  so   stout, 
And  Jesus'  guidance   crave, 
Unto  a  Pope  is  Urban  hight, 
If  haply  he  will  save. 

Sir  Pope,  thou  ghostly  Father  of  mine, 
My  sins  lie  hard  on  me! 
But  since  I  truly  do  repine, 
Let  me  confess  to  thee. 

I  lingered  for  a  long,  long  year 
With  Venus,  a  fair  lady, 
And  now  I  seek  some  penance  here, 
That  I  my  God  may  see." 

The  Pope  he  has  a  staff  so  stout, 
The  dry  bough  of  a  tree: 
"Lo,  when  this  staff  shall  green  and  sprout, 
Thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee." 

"Though  I  lived  no  more  than  a  short,  short  year, 
To  suffer  away  rny  sin, 
I  thought  my  penance  to   endure, 
God's  mercy  for  to  win." 

He  has  gone  forth  from  the  city  gates, 
In  grief   and  agony. 
"Mary  Mother,  Thou  pure  Virgin, 
Since  Thou  wilt  none  of  me, 

Then  I  will  to  the  mountain  go, 
And  ever  there  remain, 
Since   God  has  sent  me  to  my   sweet 
Lady  love  again." 

"O   welcome,  thou  good  Tannhauser, 
Whom  I  have  missed  so  sore! 

i)  The  greybeard  was,  according  to  the  saga,  the  "faithful  Eckhart",  who,  a 
Cerberus  made  man,  kept  watch  at  the  gates  of  the  Venusberg.  The  dramatic  con- 
flict, it  will  be  noticed,  is  precisely  the  same  as  in  Walther's  "Farewell  to  the  world". 


—      147     — 

O   welcome   now,   my   dearest  lord, 
Never  to  leave  me  more!" 

And  ere  the  third  day  was  gone  by, 
The  staff  began  to  green, 
And  messengers  rode  to  every  land 
Where  Tannhauser  had  been  seen. 

But  he  was  in  the  mountain  ben, 
With  his  sweet  love  to  be; 
And  Urban  that  fourth  Pope  is  damned 
To  all  eternity. 


XLIL  Count  Kraft  von  Toggenburg. 

Wanton  pleasure,  in  the  summer, 
Needs  a  shady  green  to  garb  her: 
He  that  loves,  and  would  o'ercome  her, 
Seek  her  in  a  linden  arbour. 
Arch  beholders,  little  birds,  catch  up  the  spirit 
To  the  skies  with  quavering  trill  to  fill  and  thrill  and  stir  it. 

Flowers,  leaves,  clover,  hill  and  dale, 
All  the  summer  sweets  of  May, 
By  the  rose  my  lady  bears  grow  pale. 
Even  the  sun  of  day 

Fadeth  from  my  vision  when  the  rose  I  view 
Blooming  on  red  lips  like  roses  in  May  dew. 
Laugh,  O  mouth  of  the  rose's  hue, 
So  that  thy  laugh  my  joy  and  health  renew! 

All  that  glows  is 
Pallid  by  these  crimson  roses, 
Richer  than  the  rarest  posies 
Bred  in  royal  garden  closes. 
And  on  the  clever 
Knight  who  breaks  them, 
In  the  hollow  where  she  makes  them, 
She  laughs  a  redderf  rose  than  ever. 


148 

XLIII.   Sir  Hugo  von  Werbenwag. 

Who  loves  unheard  remembers  in  the  pride 
Of  loving,  other  joys  to  him  denied; 
And  me  in  love  a  lady  doth  deride.1 

Friend,  tell  her  that  I  to  her  command 
Am  deaf,  no  more  her  praise  to  sing! 
Since  there  is  justice   in  the  land,2 
I  will  denounce  her  to  the  King. 
She  took  my  service,  but  will  not  requite  me ; 
And  if  King  Conrad  should  be  cold  and  slight  me, 
I  will  appeal  to  the  Emperor  to  right  me. 

Alack!     I  fear  that  we  must  both 
Fight,  while  the  court  upon  us  look, 
If  she  deny  upon  her  oath 
That  she  my  vassal  service  took. 
If  fight  I  must,  the  blood  I  will  not  shed 
That  crimsons  her  rich  lips:  and  yet  the  dread 
Dishonour,  if  a  woman  strike  me  helpless  dead! 

And  if  the  Emperor  cheat  my  hope, 
Then  to  Thuringia's  King  I  will 
Betake  me,  haply  to  the  Pope.  — 
Lad  y.        "Dear  heart,  thine  anger  clothes  thee  ill ! 
Receive  such  love  as  I  can  offer  thee: 
Complain  not,  and  be  vassal  still  to  me; 
My  love  is  better  than  thy  right,  my  will  is  free." 


XLIV.  Sir  Walther  von  Metz. 

Now  is  renewed  as  every  year  my  grief, 
That  many  a  man  with  flowers  I  see, 
Woe  is  me! 

Who  deserveth  not  the  leaf. 
So  I  bemoan  the  flowers  and  the  wild  birds'  thrill ; 

1)  The  lady  mocks  MF,  42,  21 ;    132,30;    123,33;    135,  19;  136,  20;  218, 
LD,  XL VIII,  1 6. 

2)  Cf.  LD,  XXXVIII,   169  —  70;  H.  v.  M.,  XVIII,  I. 

3)  Such  fights  between  men  and  women  did  actually  take  place.    See  Schultz  II, 
p.   147;  MF,  172,  10. 


—     149     — 

And  both  to  many  a  man  I  grudge, 

Who,  as  I  judge, 

Has  thoughts  intent  on  ill. 

If  I  shall  wish,  then  O  that  wild  birds  could 
By  miracle  of  song's  award, 
With  one  accord, 
Sunder  the  bad  from  good. 

Would  they  but  sing  as  they  our   secrets  knew, 
We  might,  by  listening  to  their  lays 
On  sunny  days, 
Take  stock  how  good  we  grew. 

And  he  the  nightingale  observed  with  song, 
What  though  his  worth  had  been  unknown, 
Now  he  were  shown 
The  foremost  of  the  throng. 
But  he  the  goldfinch  x  and  the  weird  cuckoo 
Greeted,  the  scoff  of  all  were  he  — 
And  there  would  be 
Of  such  a  goodly  crew ! 


XLV.   Sir  Rubin. 

The  greeting  kind  of  ladies'  voices 
To  its  depths  the  soul  rejoices, 
More  than  all  the  wild  birds'  songs. 
Can  a   man   be  merry-hearted 
If  from  ladies  he  is  parted? 
Happy  is  he  to  whom  a  love  belongs. 
What  can  be  compared  thereto? 
Who  confesses 
To  caresses, 
Let  him  say  if  e'er  he  rue. 

Whilom  I  to  find  endeavoured 
How  from  grief  the  heart  is  severed, 
And  if  aught  could  pleasure  summon. 
I  was  counselled  by  the  wise, 


i)  The  German  word  ,,Distelfink"  (==  thistle-finch)  is  less  euphoniou* 


Nothing  cures  the  heart  of  sighs 

But  the  kisses  of  a  woman. 

Now  my  heart  is  light;  and  I 

Am  beholden 

To  their  golden 

Counsels  till  the   day   I   die. 

She  is  good:  I  dare  be  bound 
Not  a  better  could  be  found. 
Though  ye  search  to  every  limit 
Of  the  realm,  ye  will  not  find 
One  whose  beauty,  to  my  mind, 
Is  as  pure,  with  naught  to  dim  it. 

—  "Will  you  swear  that  none  is  better?" 

—  Swear?     No,  Sir, 
That  of  her 

I  will  swear  not  till  I  get  her. 


XLVI.   Sir  Wachsmut  von  Miilnhausen. 

Let  me  alone  and  I  will  provide. 

Maiden.          "Because  of  you,  sweet  page,  believe  me, 
My  parents  are  so  strict: 
Out  of  their  sight  they  scarce  will  leave  me; 
Your  fine  plans  they  have  tricked. 
But  if  your  patience  holds  out  still, 
Ere  long  you'll  get  your  will. 

0  gentle  squire, 

Wait  yet  a  little  while  for  your  desire!" 
Page.  Were  I  the  lord  of  a  noble  train, 

Might  grace  a  land  of  worth: 
Were  I  the  King  of  old  Champagne, 
And  famed  o'er  all  the  earth: 

1  would  rather  lose  my  crown  and  spear 
Than  my  true  love  and  dear, 

And  love's  reward. 

Make  me  to  thrive  in  her  affections,  Lord! 

Did  ever  human  eyes  behold 
A  lovelier  pair  of  cheeks? 


Lilies  white  their  leaves  unfold, 

But  roses  when  she  speaks. 

She  wears  her  long  and  yellow  hair : 

And  O  the  Emperor  to  be, 

That  I  and  she 

The  Roman  realm  of  Charlemagne  might  share ! 

From  my  dear  maiden's  lips  a  kiss 
Burns  softer  than  a  glede : 1 
And  he  to  whom  she  granted  this, 
Were  a  proud  man  indeed ! 
Help  me  to  wish2  the  kisses   due 
From  my  dear  maid 
Will  yet  be  paid  — 
And  I  will  wish  for   something  pleasant  too. 


XL VII.   Sir  Geltar. 

Imitatores,  servum  pecus. 

If  man  of  mine  sang  of  his  "lady  beauteous," 

I  would  compel  him  to  declare  her  name, 

Lest  any  should  surmise  he  meant  my  wife. 

Alram,  Rupert,  Frederick,  you  are  most  unduteous 

To  ape  your  lords.     Such  a  perfidious  game, 

If  laws  there  were,  would  jeopardize  your  life. 

The  tears  you  shed  will  never  make  you  thin : 

And  if  things  were  as  you  bemoan  them  in 

Your  songs,  you  would  be  dead  ere  Christmas  came.8 

1)  Cf.  LD,  XXXVIII,   129;  LHI,   14;  XCVI,  22.     Louise  Labe:  "(baisers) 
plus  chauds  que  braise''  (Son.  XVIII). 

2)  Cf.  LD,  XCI,  21 ;  XCV,   13;  Walt.,  30,  21. 

3)  Cf.  LD,  LXXXVII,   141  sqq.;  MF,   133,  21  —  22;   165,  20;   188,  9  sqq.; 
Walt.,   23,  i  sqq.;  and  Burger  (uDer  Arme  Dichter"): 

Once  on  a  time  a  fat  old  poet, 
With  face  like  the  great  moon  that  climbs 
A  bonfire  on  the  hills  below  it, 
Railed  at  his  poverty  in  rimes, 
And  roundly  rated  the  hard  times. 

"Sheer  fooling,  Sir,  is  all  this  rumpus", 
One  of  the  company  calls  apace. 


—     152     — 

XLVIII.  Margrave  Henry  the  Illustrious  of  Meiszen. 

What  hath  the  world  to  offer  more 

To  soothe  the  pain  at  the  bosom's  core, 

Than  women's  love  alone? 

They  are,  like  crystal  mirrors  bright,1 

Fashioned  to  reflect  delight: 

As  when  a  knight  beholds  his  own 

Happy  image  in  fair  eyes ; 2 

And  may  the  recreant  who  spies 

Upon  such  rapture  turn  to  stone : 

Or  far  from  women  sail  astray 

On  some  uncharted  waterway, 

And  founder  on  a  reef  unknown.3 


XLIX.   Sir  Herrand  von  Wildonje. 

Tell  me  where  is  fancy  bred? 

Now  with  song  and  laughter 
Ring  the  sylvan  glades: 
Sorrow,  run  not  after 
Merry  boys  and  maids. 

The  forest  tops  in  verdant  billows  are  heaving, 
And  the  birds'  song  the   solitude  is  cleaving. 

Why  this  twittering? 
The  sun  is  climbing  down  the  hill. 


"Your  worthy  body,  by  its  compass, 
And  the  full  moon  your  shining  face 
"Witness  against  the  plaintiffs  case." 

"Well",  says  the  bard,  "it  may  be  ?o. 
And  yet  my  belly  —  may  God  bless  it''  — 
(And  laid  his  hand  there  to  caress  it)  — 
"My  face  too,  to  mine  host  I  owe". 

1)  I  have  made  bold  to  curtail  his  Excellency's  dithyrambics ,   and  in  this  line 
I  believe  I  had  in  my  mind  a  criticism,  in  the  "Neue  Deutsche  Rundschau",   of  the 
correspondence  of  the  Brownings:  "Er  ist  der  Zauber  und  sie  der  Spiegel".   MF.  137,  2. 

2)  Walt.,  36,  9 — 10.    Drayton,  "Poly-Olbion",  s.  II,  p.  174,  "Whilst  in  their 
crystal  eyes  he  doth  for  Cupids  look". 

3)  Cf.  Osw.  62,  32. 


153     — 

Where  a  rose  in  dew  is  glittering.1 

Other  things  compare  but  ill  — 

Except  a  woman's  face  that  brightens 

At  praise  of  virtue  that  her  beauty  heightens. 

In  the  eyes  true  love  arises, 
Enters  thence  into  the  heart ;  - 
Love  to  love  unheard  devises: 
"O  that  I  were  where  thou  art!" 
This  melody  enraptured 
I  from  a  bird  hard  by  the  forest  captured. 


L.  He  of  Suneck. 

Grata  compede  vinctus. 

Sweet  Love,  lo  thou  hast  brought  me  to  this  plight, 
That  I  must  moan  in  melody  my  cares 
To  her  for  whom  I  yearn  by  day  and  night. 
In  at  mine  eyes  she  entered  unawares, 
And  in  my  heart's  recess3  is  sojourning; 
And  there  is  only  God  could  ever  bring 
On  lips  so  red  a  smile  so  conquering. 

1)  Cf.   Walt.,  84,  143.     More  striking  examples  than  those  given  to  the  latter 
passage  by  Wilmanns  are,  I  think,  LD,  XL VIII,  32;  LXIX,  34  —  37;  LXXXIII 
21  —  22;    Pfaff  I   p.  156,91;    p.  219,  4  —  5.      v.  Weinh.  I,   224.     This   image   was 
" ausgenutzt "  by  the  poets  of  the  Pleiade;  cf.  Ronsard,  Ode  XXXII,  "La  rose  blan- 
chit  tout  autour  Au  matin  de  perles  petites  Qu'elle  emprunte  du  poinct  du  jour",  the 
tautology  of  which   is  repeated  in  his  sonnet  "Sur  la  Mort  de  Marie"  (Second  Livre 
des  Amours,   mi),  but  which  may  be  translated  with  excision  of  the  tautology,  and 
shortening  the  six  feet,  intolerable  in  English: 

"As  on  the  branch  in  May  you  see  the  rose 
Fair  budding  in  its  first  youth ,  make  the  skies 
Jealous  of  its  bright  hues,  when  morning  cries 
Its  tears  down  on  it:  Love  and  Grace  repose 
Within  its  leaves,  scenting  the  garden -close." 

2)  There   is   a   Danish   saying:    uKaerlighed   er   som   Taaren;    den   begynder    i 
0iet  og  falder  i  Barmen". 

3)  =  "il   suo   seggio   maggior   nel   mio   cor"    (tvrbs   tpfjs  XQatfirjs):    ci.  MF, 
42,  19   ("My   heart   must  be   her  hermitage"):    141,  22;    194,  24;  LD,  XXI,  762; 
LXXII,  26;  XCVII,  55  ("on  my  heart's  rafter");  Walt.  4,  20,  29;  22,  11  —  12;  Osw. 
19,  13  (uin  my  heart's  pond");  Schmidt.  Reinm.,  p.  116.  ;  Wilm.,  Leben,  IH,  168,  401. 


154     — 

Whether  in  German  or  in  alien  lands, 
You  shall  not  find  a  lady  half  so  fair. 
Her  virtue  guards  her  more  than  armed  bands 
You  cannot  find  her  equal  anywhere. 
No  dearer  lady  lives  for  knight  to  sing; 
And  there  is  only  God  could  ever  bring 
On  lips  so  red  a  smile   so  conquering. 

When  first  I  saw  the  lady  without  stain, 
I  thought  an  angel  visitant  was  she : 
And  deemed  in  meted  joy  that  I   should  gain 
Little  I  feared  she  so  would  vanquish  me, 
Nor  marked  the  fetters   she  was  carrying; 
And  there  is  only  God  could  ever  bring 
On  lips  so  red  a  smile  so  conquering. 


LI.   King  Conradin. 

Ich  bin  ein  Neuling  in  dergleichen  Dingen. 

I  rejoice  at  all  the  flowers  gay 
With  which  the  fields  are  fair; 
Hid  in  earth's  close  womb  they  lay, 
While  winter  swept  the  air; 
But  now  she  brings  them  to  the  light, 
To  please  her  spouse  the  spring: 
And  all  the  land  is  lustrous  with  delight. 

But  I  am  darkling  as  a  mole 
On  every  earlier  morrow; 
My  wonted  joys  a  lady  stole, 
And  thrust  upon  me  sorrow. 
If  she  would  only   hearken  my  complaint, 
It  were  a  gracious  deed ; 
And  then   mine  anguish  would  in  rapture   faint. 

When  I  her  dear  face  cannot  view, 
My  soul  is  in  a  cloud ; 
Alas  that  e'er  that  face  I  knew, 
To  bring  me  in  my  shroud ! 
Woman  ne'er  took  my  hand  and  smiled; 


1 55 

And  love  chastises  me, 

For  that  in  years  I  am  as  yet  a  child. 


LII.   Conrad  von  Wiirzburg. 

1. 

In  the  casket  of  his  heart  the  Meiszner  -  bears 

Song's  treasure,  honour's   aureole   he  wears. 

Him  would   Grecian  Helen  thank: 

We  others  are  a  vanquished  horde,  and  quail 

Before  him,  and  in  art  we  rank 

As  vultures   by  the  nightingale. 

He  should  appear  at  fairs. 

2. 

The  fierce  lion  will  hurt  no  yielden  things. 

Leaves  that  were  clustering  now  3  have  the  blustering  wild 
winds  dowrn-tumbled, 

Yellowing  and  shedding  them,  in  dark  ruts  bedding  them,  tar- 
nished and  crumbled. 

O'er  the  heath  wandering,  lonely  I'm  pondering  on  the  sad 
season. 

Love  hath  rebuffed  me,  cruelly  bluffed  me,  reft  me  of  reason. 
Arrows  4  my  heart  have  hit,  sore  is  the  smart  of  it,  madly 
it  rankles. 

Such  is  my  hapless  lot,  bound,  noosed  with  chain  and  knot  from 
head  to  ankles. 

That  anguish  darkling  lies  she  with  her  sparkling  eyes  in  me 
fomenteth. 

1)  He   was  defeated  at  Tagliacozzo  in   1268,   captured  in  flight,  and  beheaded 
in  the  public  square  of  Naples.     He  was  then  sixteen  and  a  half  years  old. 

2)  Not  the  Margrave  of  Meiszen,  but  a  "  biirgerlicher  Dichter". 

3)  Bayard  Taylor  begins  his  translation  of  this  poem  (which  appears  here  only 
as  a  specimen  of  the  decadent  Minnesong):  ''Year-long  will  the  linden  The  wind  in 
Go  waving,  While  a  tempest  sorest  The  forest  Is  braving".     (jarlanc  =  now). 

4)  This   trope   is   only   popular   in    the  later   Minnesong:  cf.  Walt.,  3,  16;   29, 
18;  LD,  XXXVIII,  125;  LXXI,   71,  86  —  87;  XCVIII,  231;  CB,  51,  3;   102,  4; 
ma;  Matzner  p.  174;  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p.  112. 


-     156     - 

New  dart  on  dart  she  sends,       never  my  smart  she  ends,       never 

relenteth. 
When  every  arrow's  shot,       the  hunter  harrows  not      the  dying 

quarry. 
Thy  quiver  groweth  light,       none  to  thee   showeth  fight,1       now 

be   thou   sorry 
For  all  the   reckless   woe       wrought    on  a   feckless   foe:       spare 

thou  to  slay  me! 
Thy  slave  resigned  unbind,       do  not  with  mind  unkind       slaughter 

and  flay  me ! 


LIIL  The  Wild  Alexander. 
1. 

Parce,  precor,  precor  — . 

Shall  I  for  ever  call  in  vain 
For  love's  boon? 

And  with  a  hollow  voice  of  anguish  plain 
And  cry 

Unto  the   rocks  and  moon? 
Nay,  death  shall  end  the  pain 
Soon. 

But  ere  I  die, 

Like  the  swan  when  death  is  nigh,2 
I  will  sing  my  haughty  love  good-bye. 

She  -is  the  fruitful  vine  a 
Of  joys  that  she  refuseth  to  be  mine. 
My  comfort  was  that  I  hoped  still, 
And  so  I  bore  in  Love's  compaign  the  ill, 
And  all  the  hardships  he  entails 
On  those  that  in  his  body-guard  he  trails. 

0  Cupid,  my  liege  lord, 

1  am  thy  page,  I  bear  thy  shield 
Afield, 

But  where  is  my  reward? 

1)  Cf.  Walt.,  29,  26. 

2)  Cf.  MF,   139,  15;  CB,   167,  i;   Matzner  p.  228;    Wilm.,  Leben,  III,  409. 

3)  Cf.  Pfaff,  I  p.  1 60,  1.  205. 


—     157 

Love,  1  bear  thy  shield  unaided : 
Therefore    shalt   thou   be   upbraided! 
Yoke  my  lady  to  my  side, 
That  the  burden  we  divide! 
Then  it  will  not  be  so  grievous: 
In  its   hollow  thou  mayst  leave  us. 

Well  a  man  may  make  his   moan, 
Who  must  bear  Love's  shield  alone. 
Sorrow  is   to   sorrow  married, 
When  against   him   it  is  carried, 
When  a  heart  by  Love  is  harried; 
Worst  of  all  when  two,  thereunder 
That  have  tarried, 
Unenjoyed  are  torn  asunder. 

Let  my  lady  with  me  stand! 
We  will  serve  thee  heart  and  hand. 
But  if  thou  shouldst  then  disband 
Those  who  wait   on   thy  command, 
There  were  sorrow  in  the  land. 

Sweet  to-day  and  sour  to-morrow ; 
Pleasure  hath  for  neighbour  sorrow. 

Love,  thou  canst  not  take  her: 
She  hath  taken  thee  to  make  her 
Pastime,  and  thou  art  her  page. 
War  I  cannot  wage, 

Unless  by  thee  my  general  commanded. 
Thou  art  a  captive,  and  thy  army  is  disbanded, 
We  are  worsted,  thou  and  I : 
Let  the  world  go  by! 

And  yet! 

Though  I  am  foiled,  why  should   I  fret? 
Happy  lovers  on  endangered  meads 
Gather  for  their  full  bouquet 
Flowers  seeming  gay, 
Seeming  gay  and  poisoned  weeds. 
Peril  lurks  in  Love's  bower; 
Their  lips  that  play 
Beneath   his   shield   an    hour, 
Shall   soon  be   hushed, 


J58 

When  they   beneath  its  fall  are  crushed  - 
Spare  me,  Love,  O  spare,   I  pray ! l 

Would  ye  know  how  is  Love's   shield, 
Lovers  play  under? 
It  is  a  wonder 

With  motley  symbols  bossed  around  the  hem 
A  naked  child  in  a  red  field, 
Blindfolded  with  a  band, 
And  with  his  brows  girt  by  a  diadem, 
Stretches   to  the  figured  rim 
The   sweeping  wings   of  him : 
A  golden  arrow  is  in  one   hand, 
And  in  the   other  a  lighted  brand.  - 

Love,   arise ! 

Thy  host  acclaimeth  thee  with  cries. 
Shoot,   scorch, 
Fling  the  fury  of  thy  torch, 
Flying  where  the  foemen  tarry! 

Who  shall  parry, 
Who  waylay  thee? 
Battlements   do   not   effray  thee. 
Through  thick  walls   thine   arrows   go ; 3 
Through  the  breach  thy  torch  does  throw 
Flames  that  catch,  and  grow,  and  glow. 

Where 
Breast 

Comes  to  breast, 
Ware 
Lest 
Love  lime  his  sparrows  in  the  nest! 

Blind   and  naked,   ever  such 
Was  thine  antic 
Game  of  touch.  — 
Censors  would  be  frantic 
If  I  should  here  be  bold  and  say  too  much. 

Flittest  hither, 


1)  Cf.  Neidh.,  Haupt  55,  9:  Goethe  "Liebe,  Liebe!  lasz  mich  los!" 

2)  LD.  LXXXV,  22. 

3)  Cf.  Walt.,  22,31-32. 


—     159 

Flittest  thither! 

Thoughts  and  wishes   are  thy  pinions. 

Soaring  aloft, 

Sinking  soft 

In  the  hearts   of  all  thy  minions. 

He  who  bears  thy  shield  for  thee, 
Learn   the   tune   that   Paris   wight 
Brought  from  Greece  across  the  sea 
Unto  love-sick  hearts  at   night : 
When  the  Greeks  took  Troy,  whoever 
Bore  Love's  fetter, 
Knew  no  better 
Watchword   than :   "Woe,   woe,    for    ever !' 

2.1 

Frigidus,  O  pueri,  fugite  hinc,  latet  anguis  in  herba. 

In  the  happy  days  of  childhood 
When  we   haunted  all  the  wildwood 
Early  in  the  glades  encamping, 
Running  all   the   day   and  ramping,2 
Then  we  found  among  the  grass 
Violets,  where  now,  alas! 
Cattle    heavy-hoofed   are   tramping. 

There  for  many  an  hour  we  lingered, 
Guessing  at  the  flowers  we  fingered, 
Which  the  fairest  well  might  be. 
Garlands  also  plaited  we; 
And,  with  little  hands  united, 
Danced  till  we  were  quite  benighted : 
So  the  years  of  childhood  flee! 


1)  "me  denne  wort  ein  bischaft  tuot".    Or,  this  is  philosophy.    Nobody  knows 
what  it  means,   but  there   are  many  conjectures,   which  make  it  darker.     Possibly 
the  forest  =  the  world;  the  keeper,  or  shepherd  =  Christ ;  the  King  =  God;  the  royal 
guards  =  evil   spirits ;    the   children  =  the   human  race ;    the  adders  =  sins.     The  main 
difficulty   is   the  little  horse,    which  has  no  connection  with  the  merry-go-round.     The 
reading  "pherdelin"  is  uncertain:  the  Jena  MS.  has  "pherierlin"  =?    May  it  not  mean 
life,   i.   e.    that  which  bears  us   to   the  wildwood   (world):   life,   which  can   never  be 
purified  from  the  first  stain  of  sin? 

2)  W.  S.   Landor    uses    this    verb   ("Where    three  huge   dogs   are  ramping 
yonder"),  with  the  meaning  "to  romp". 


160     — 

Where  the  strawberry  runs  and  reaches 
From  the  pine  wood  to  the  beeches, 
Over  stile  and  hedge  we  clomb, 
Nowhere  did  we  fear  to  roam : 
Till  the  calling  of  the  keeper, 
As  the  shades  were   growing  deeper, 
''Children,  it  is  time  for  home." 

See,  our  hands  the  thorn-bush  scratches 
Where  the  strawberries  grew  in  patches ; 
Where  we  played  at  games  of  ball, 
Now  we  hear  the  shepherd  call, 
With  a  voice  of  deep  repining 
All  the   while  the   sun  is   shining, 
"Where  ye  play,  the  adders  crawl !" 

In  the  ferns  a  boy  who  rambles 
Screams  with  fear  as  out  he  scrambles: 
"Run !     A  snake  is  in  the  gorse ! 
It  hath  bit  our  little   horse; 
And  the   sore,   no  leech  can  heal  it : 
He  in  agony  will  feel  it 
Till  the  day  he  is  a  corse." 

Hark  the  shepherd!  "Mists  grow  thicker 
Round  the  forest,  come  forth  quicker ! 
It  will  happen  as  I  warn: 
If  ye  laugh  my  words  to  scorn, 
Ye  will  in  the  thickets  yonder 
Past  the  beaten  pathways  wander, 
Nevermore  to  greet  the  morn. 

Know  ye  that  five  virgins  roaming 
Lingered  in  the  fields  till  gloaming, 
And  the  King  had  closed  the  gate? 
They  were  in  a  piteous  state : 
For  the  royal  guards  bereft  them 
Of  their  garments  all,  and  left  them 
In  the  night  disconsolate". 

3. 

He  is  no  gardener  of  roses, 
Who  in  such  garden  alleys  closes 


His  plants  that  rain  can  fall  not  on  their  stem. 

To  rosebuds  there  should  cling 

Dew,  with   sunshine   following, 

And  this  will  open  them. 

There  is  a  rose,  beyond  a  wicket 

Close   hidden  in   so   dense   a   thicket, 

No  solace  comes  anear. 

Hence   my  bewailing 

That  this  my  ruddy  rose  be  ailing, 

And  that  her  cheeks  must  still  be  paling, 

Until  the  space  around  her  is  made  clear. 


LIV.   Sir  Steinmar. 
1. 

In  dulci  jubilo. 

Sith  she  refuses  the  meed  of   song, 
Whom  I  have  worshipped  so  well  and  long, 
Lo !     I  will  turn  my  praises 
To  lusty  autumn  who  makes  me  gay, 
And  bares  the  trees  of  the  weeds  of  May 
To  cover  the  dying  daisies. 
I  know  it  is  a  true  and  ancient  word : 
Martyrs  are  they  whose  passion  is  unheard. 
I  was  among  their  crew,  I  bore  their  yoke  — 
Heigh-ho!     I  will  leave  them  now,  and  join  the  eating  folk.1 

Dear  Autumn,  I'll  help  thee  to  fight  the  Spring, 
If  thou  wilt  take  me  under  thy  wing. 
Come,  let  us  help  each  other ! 
Love  I  will  drive  clean  out  of  my  head ; 
And,  since  your  Give-me-wine  2  is  dead, 
Take  me,  a  plain  lay  brother, 
To  be  your  trencherman  in  his  place. 
—  "Steinmar,  it  shall  be  as  you  say,  in  case 


i)  Cf.  Haug: 

"Though  often  struck  with  Cupid's  arrow,  pine 
He  would  not,  but  washed  out  the  wound  with  wine." 
Rudyard  Kipling:  "A  woman  is  only  a  woman,  but  a  good  cigar's  a  smoke". 

2}  Cf.   LD,  XL VII,    185  —  192;    LXXIV,    I,   3,   9;    Freid.  116,    i;    "dcr 
Xostewein"  in  Wm  Miiller's  poem  "Est,  Est",  1.  49. 

Bith ell,  The  Minnesingers.     I.  II 


102       

To  praise  me  at  my  full  worth  you  are  able." 

Heigh-ho!     I'll   sing  as  long  as   there's   aught  left   on  the   table. 

Now  hearken,  dear  Autumn,   how  I  would  live! 
Mine   host,   fish   daily   I   charge   thee    give   — 
Ten   sorts,   and  anything  less   won't   do. 
Capons,  wildfowl,   swine,  and  geese, 
Blackpuddings  and  peafowl  without  surcease ; 
And  wines  in  Italy  that  grew. 
Give  us  galore,  and  well  the  platters  filled: 
The  meat  shall  not  be  spoiled,  the  wine  not  spilled. 
Host,  bid  thy  cares  depart! 
Heigh-ho!  good  wine  must  surely  comfort  a  sad  heart. 

Spice  well  the  victuals  —  more,  indeed, 
Than  is  really  good  for  us,  to  breed 
Such  a  scorching  heat  within 
That  the  vapour  of  our  thirst  will  rise 
Like  a  fire's  smoke,   and   in   such  wise 
The  sweat  will  stream  upon  our  skin, 

We  shall  think  we  have  run  a  leak  that  will  not  stop  — 
Yea,  make  our  palate  like  a  chemist's  shop ; x 
And  when  I  can  no  longer  see  the  bottle, 
Heigh-ho!  for  company's  sake  just  tip  it  down  my  throttle. 

Mine  host,  through  me  there  goes  a  road: 
Bring  thither  all  in  thy  pantry  stowed, 
Eatables   manifold : 
And  wine  enough  to  work  a  mill 
Pour  down  the  opening!     I  will 
To  praise  my  guts  make  bold : 
I  can  eat  a  whole  fat  goose  and  never  choke. 
Autumn,  let  me  be  of  thy  chosen  folk!  — 
My  soul  has  hopped  on  a  rib,2  with  terror  filled, 
Heigh-ho!  lest  she  be  drowned  by  all  the  wine  I've  swilled! 


1)  A  chemist's  shop  is  full  of  spices. 

2)  Similarly  a  toper  in  Seifried  Helbling  I,  350  sqq. : 

"By  the  Lord  Harry,  my  soul's  inside! 
Hello,  old  gal! 

I'll  give  you  a  tip,  since  you're  my  pal. 
Hop  on  a  rib  till  the  turn  of  the  tide  — 
If  you  stay  where  you  are,  it's  suicide." 
Cf.  LD,  XCVII,  55. 


1  63 
2.' 


Hail,  O  summer  pleasant,  laden 
With   the   year's   delight! 
Now  I  meet  a  peasant  maiden 
On  a  moorland  height, 
Where  she  gathers  blooms  of  heather 
To  be  bound  in  brooms  together. 
She  and  I 

Must  be  lovers  till  we  die. 
Beware  ! 
Ye  who  love  in  secret  have  good  care  ! 

In  the  hut  the  turf-smoke  blackens 
I  her  mother  scare. 
Now  she  comes,  and  in  the  brackens 
Steeps  her  ankles  bare,2 
Gathering  flowers  to  adorn  her 
At  the  dance;  where,  in  some  corner, 
Under  trees, 

She  and  I   shall  talk  at  ease. 
Beware  ! 
Ye  who  love  in  secret  have  good  care  ! 

She  slips  out  into  the  garden, 
When  I  pass  that  way. 
O'er  the  hedge  I  try  to  harden 
Her  to   disobey  — 
Just  to  come  outside  and  follow 
Me  into  some  rocky  hollow, 
Where,  safe  hiding, 
We  can  mock  her  mother's  chiding. 
Beware  ! 
Ye  who  love  in  secret  have  good  care! 

"Now,  since  thou  thy  mother  fearest, 
Setting  traps  for  thee: 
One  trap's  worth  another,  dearest  - 
Venture  it  with  me! 

1)  This  poem  was  so  popular  that  it  was  turned  into  a  hymn. 

2)  LD,  LXXVI,   134;  Osw.  48,  ii  ;  49,  2. 

II* 


164 

Do   not   fancy   this   is   folly, 
Marriage  underneath  the  holly 
After  o'er  a  broom-stick  springing. 
We'll  be  wed  with  church-bells  ringing." 
Beware ! 
Ye  who  love  in  secret  have  good  care ! 

Steinmar,   you're  a  lucky  fellow! 
For  the  girl  is  good ; 
And  as  pretty  as  a  yellow 
Opening  rose-bud. 
Marriage  is  a  good  idea; 
Your  old  mother  1  wants  to  see  a 
Wife  caress  you  — 
Get  it  over,  and  God  bless  you! 
Beware ! 
Ye  who  love  in  secret  have  good  care ! 

3. 

Ludit  servus  cum  ancilla. 

A  herd-boy  hidden  lay, 
Sleeping  with  his   kitchen  charmer, 
Till  dawn  of  day. 
Shrill  called  the  farmer : 
"Get  up !     Let  out  the  herds  !" 
Quailed  the  gentle  lovers  at  these  loveless  words. 

He   must  the  straw  vacate, 
And  from  his  truelove  part. 
He  dared  not  be  too  late : 
He  pressed  her  to  his  heart. 
The  straw  upon  them  lying, 
The  pure  maiden  saw  it  o'er  the  barn-floor  flying. 

She  could  not  help  but  smile, 
Her  eyelids  fell   again. 
So  sweetly  all  the  while 
The  maiden  and  the  swain 
The  morning  hours  employ: 
In  such  a  bed-room  bare  who  ever  saw  such  joy? 

i)  Cf.  Neidh.  19,48  —  50. 


-     i65     - 

LV.  Frauenlob. 

1. 

Woe  is  me!     A  mortal  cancer 
Eateth  at   my  heart! 
Pasture  of  bright  eyes,  O  answer; 
When  wilt  ease  the  smart? 

O  the  smile  of  thy  red   mouth  when  shall  I  see, 
Saying:  "Blessed   shalt  thou  be: 
What  thou   wishest   thou    shalt    have   of   me." 

Yea,   the  mouth   whereon  reposes 
Comfort  yet  though  dumb. 
O   confirm  me,  all   red  roses, 
Lips  with  red  o'ercome! 

More  would  suit  the  mouth  a  yes  of  the  lily's  snow,1 
Than  an  anguish-lurid  no! 
Grey  in  youth  to  hear  that  word  I  grow. 

i)  So  that  the  theory  of  the  colours  of  sound,  commonly  supposed  to  have 
been  elaborated  by  Arthur  Rimbaud  in  his  famous  sonnet  on  the  vowels,  suggested 
itself  to  a  decadent  Minnesinger!  Rimbaud's  sonnet  runs  as  follows  (the  translation 
is  rough  and  literal): 

uYe  vowels,  A  black,  E  white,  I  red,  U  green,  O  blue, 
I  will  reveal  your  latent  births  one  of  these  days. 
A,  of  big  burnished  flies  the  ebon  hairy  stays 
Buzzing  o'er  cruel  stenches,  gulfs  of  shade;  E,  hue 
Of  tents  and  vapours,  lance  of  proud  glaciers,  rajahs  who 
In  linen  glitter,  umbel  shiverings;  I,  displays 
Of  purples,  laugh  of  lovely  lips  where  angers  blaze, 
Expectorated  blood,  excesses  steeped  in  rue. 
U,  the  divine  vibration  of  green  seas, 
JEons,  the  peace  of  cattle  -  studded  leas, 
Lines  drawn  by  alchemy  on  studious  foreheads  wise. 
O,  supreme  clarion  full  of  strident  noises  strange, 
Silences  where  worlds  and  angels  range, 
O,  the  Omega,  and  the  violet  ray  of  His  eyes!" 

Rene  Ghil  then  found  the  tone  equivalents  of  the  vowels.  "For  him  the  organ  is 
black,  the  harp  white,  the  violins  blue,  the  brasses  red,  and  the  flutes  yellow.  He 
even  went  further,  and  assigned  to  each  consonant  its  hue  and  tone."  (Vance  Thomp- 
son, "•  French  Portraits",  p.  16.)  Cf.  "Some  faithful  fountain  sighing  whitely  towards 
the  blue"  (Stephane  Mallarme,  quoted  in  "The  Symbolist  Movement  in  Literature" 
by  Arthur  Symons,  p.  121);  and  Oscar  Wilde  in  "Salome":  "The  silence  that  dwells 
in  the  forest  is  not  so  black  ....  The  red  blasts  of  trumpets  ....  are  not  so  red." 
Fr.  Thompson:  "So  white  a  yearning". 


i66     — 

Were  I  Paris,  proud  and  chosen 
Beauty's  Queen  to  choose, 
Though  it  killed   me,   I  would   cozen 
Venus  of  her  dues. 

Juno  or  Minerva   should  the  prize  possess, 
To  avenge  me  of  the  dire  distress 
You  have  given  me,  and  will  not  redress. 

2.1 

Sic  visum  Veneri. 

A  woman  cheated  Adam,  first  of  men; 
Samson  was  fooled,  and  fooled  again 
By  a  woman,  till  he  lost  his  eyes; 
Fell  by  a  woman  David;  and  his  son, 
King  Solomon  the  wise, 
Was  by  a  woman  spoiled  of  Paradise; 
Absalom's  beauty  saved  him  not  from  one ; 
And  Alexander,  maugre  empery  of  the  world,  was  thus 
Cozened;  and  Virgilius 
Came  by  a  perjured  woman  in  distress; 
And  Holofernes  lay   a  corse, 
Head  dissevered  from  the  streaming  torse ; 
Troy,  town  and  land,  smoked  for  a  woman's  loveliness ; 
Achilles  wild  became, 
And  the  wild  Asahel  grew  tame ; 
King  Arthur's  shame 

Sullied  his  knighthood  only  from  a  dame ; 
And  Percival  is  such  another  name. 
Since  Love  was  ever  used  to  such  a  game, 
Now  that  to  me  does  hap  the  same, 
I  burnt  and  frozen 2  how  should  I  expect  redress  ? 

3. 

A  thousand  candles  can  from  one  be  lighted: 
So  from  virtue  in  one  heart  ignited 
Can  a  thousand  erring  hearts  be  righted. 

1)  Cf.  Osw.  88;  Freid.   104,  22—25;  H.  v.  M.,  XV,  64  and  p.  224;  Villon's 
"Double  Ballade  of  Good  Counsel". 

2)  Cf.  Sir  Thos.  Wyatt,  "I   fear   and  hope,   I  burn,  and  freeze  like  ice."  do. 
"spurs  with  fire,  and  bridleth  eke  with  ice  ...  frozen  now  cold,  and  now  he  stands 
in  flame."  do.  "The  Lover  to  his  Bed",  lines  8 — 9.    Du  Bellay:  "Desir  m'enflamme, 
et  crainte  me  rend  glace''.     Louise  Labe,  son.  VIII:    "J'ai  chaut  extreme  en  endurant 
froidure." 


i67 

LVI.   Margrave  Otto  of  Brandenburg  with  the  Arrow. 

1. 

Make  clear  the  path  for  my  dear  lady  there, 
And  let  mine  eyes  upon  her  beauty  fall, 
Which  even  an  Emperor  might  behold  and  swear 
With  the  great  crowd  that  it  surpasses  all;  - 
Therefore  my  heart  is  lifted  high,  and  burns 
With  adoration  that  to  music  turns. 
I  bow  unto  the  land  where  she  sojourns. 

Dame  Venus,  be  mine  envoy  thou   alone; 
Say  to  the  lady  whom  my  thoughts  revere : 
She  is  my  belamour,  though  I  bemoan 
My  reason  stolen  by  her  visage  clear. 
My  rapture  is  upon  the  happy  isle 
Of  her  fair  body  treasured,  and  one  smile 
Of  her  red  lips  would  all  my  woes  beguile. 

For  1  am  stricken  with  a  double  blow, 
And  olden  pleasure  needs  must  be  exiled: 
Yellow  the  flowers  upon  the  meadows  grow, 
And  I  yearn  for  a  lady  undefiled. 
It  lies  with  her  to  cure,  or  at  the  worst 
To  kill  me,  but  if  she  consider  first, 
My  cares  are  bubbles  in  a  moment  burst. 

2. 

Winter,  thine  hours  of  bitter  cold, 
Of  blurring  mist  and  shrieking  storm  — 
If  I  had  come  the  word  to  hold 
Could  make  them  quiet,  light,  and  warm! 
I  would  forget  it  for  the  long  night's  sake, 
And  hers,  the  lady  dear, 
Who  hath  assuaged  my  passion's  pungent  ache. 

When,  like  the  sun  and  evening  cloud, 
I  saw  her  stand  in  purple  robe, 
My  soul  with  pinions  was  endowed 
Of  bliss,  and  soared  above  the  globe. 
And  when   her  lovely  lips   pronounced   my  name, 
They  were  so  red  they  seemed 
Bathed  softlv  in  the  halo  of  a  flame. 


i68 


O  God  of  Heaven,  vouchsafe  to  bless 
My  lady,  and  her  feet  to  guide 
Into  the  ways  of  happiness ! 
And  let  me  wander  by  her  side. 
She  hath  indeed  deserved  all  men's  good  will, 
Her  beauty  is  so  rare; 
O  God  of  Heaven,  vouchsafe  to  guard  her  still ! 


LVII.  Duke  Henry  of  Breslau. 

1  sue  to  thee,  O  Summer  Rapture,  and  to  thee,  O  May! 
I  sue  to  thee,  O  Greenwood,  whose  bowers  screen  us ! 
I  sue  to  thee,  O  Clover,  blinding  eyes! 

I  sue  to  thee,  broad  Heath  and  bright,  and  to  thee,  O  Sun  of  Day ! 
I  sue  to  thee,  O  Venus ! 
The  burthen  of  my  love  so  heavy  lies. 
If  ye  will  help  me  all  to  woo  her, 
And  bring  her  harshness  home  unto  her, 
I  yet  may  be  a  blessed  lover. 
I   come   to   tell  you  of  my   sorrow : 
In  God's  name  help  me  to  recover! 

"What  injury  does  she   do  thee !     Let  us  hear  the  accusation, 
Lest  we  condemn  the  innocent,  and  wrongs  redress 
That  ne'er  were  done.     It  is  but  fair  and  meet." 
—  I  think  she  holds  me  worthy  in  her  estimation: 
But  when  for  aught  beyond  respect  I  press, 
She  swears  that  she  will  rather   see  me  lifeless  at  her  feet. 
And,  since  she  will  not  grant  a  kiss, 
Love  fares  but  ill,  I  wis. 
Alas,  that  I  am  doomed  to  languish 
Helpless,  and  to  have  my  love  rewarded 
With  bitter  anguish ! 

"I,  May,  will  cause  my  flowers, 
The  roses  red,  the  lilies  white, 
Their  chalices  to  her  to   close." 
"I,  Summer  Rapture,  in  my  bowers, 
Wrill  bid  my  birds  her  ears  not  to  delight, 
But  give  their  sweet  thrift  some  repose."  — 


—      169      — 

"I,  the  broad  Heath,   will  seize  her, 

When  she  plucks  on  me  the  flowers  that  please  her, 

And  hold  her  fast  in  durance  near  me. 

We  declare  war  on  the  good  lady, 

Till  she  relent  and  hear  thee." 

-  "I,  the  bright  Clover,  will  avenge  thee  with  my  sheen. 
When  on  to  me  her  eyes  have   strayed, 
Until  she  blinks  with  blindness."  — 
"I,  the  Wood,  will  shake  away  my  foliage  green, 
If  she  would  shelter  in  my  shade, 
Unless   she   show  thee   kindness/' 
"I,   the   Sun,   will   warm   her  flesh 
And  fancies,  till  no   shadow-hat  L  refresh, 
Nor  castle  nooks  her  heat  abate : 
Till  she  assuage  thy  burning 
With  will  commensurate." 

—  "I,  Venus,  will  constrain  her  to  recoil 
From  all  that  is  for  me  created, 
Unless  she  have  relented."  — 
Alack,  if  I  her  joys   shall  spoil, 
Woe  that  I   ever  for  death  waited, 
When  I  was  sore  tormented!  — 
"If  you  will  vengeance  leave  to   me, 
The  roads  to  bliss  for  her  shall  be 
Impassable :  this  much  will  I  effect." 
Her  tender  body  could  not  bear  it! 
Venus,  let  me  die  rather:  her  protect! 


LVIII.   Duke  John  of  Brabant.2 

I  arose,  when  May   was  new, 
With  the  sun,  and  went 
To  an  orchard  fresh  with  dew, 
All  on  pleasure   bent. 
There  three  maids,  with  like  intent, 


1)  V.  Weinh.  II,  332. 

2)  The  victor  at  the  famous  battle  of  Worringen  in   1288. 


Sweetly  sang  this  roundelay: 

Harbalorifay,  harbaharbalorifay,  harbalorifay ! 

When  I  saw  the  grass-green  ground 
In   the  orchard  shade, 
And  I  heard  the  silvery  sound 
That  the  damsels  made, 
My  heart's   prompting  I   obeyed, 
Carolled  lustily  as  they: 
Harbalorifay,  harbaharbalorifay,  harbalorifay ! 

Greeted  I  the  fairest  maid 
That  before  me   stood; 
Round  her  waist  mine  arm  I  laid 
Tightly  as   I   could. 
Kiss  her  rosy  mouth  I  would : 
But  she  said,  "  O  nay,  O  nay!" 
Harbalorifay,  harbaharbalorifay,  harbalorifay ! 


LIX.  King  Wenceslas  of  Bohemia. 

1270  —  1305. 


TO  tpiir)iu,a,  novv  TOV 

Right  as  a  rose  that  breaks  out  of  its  folds 
When  it  is  thirsty  for  delicious  dew, 
She  offered   me  her  sugar-sweet  x  red  mouth. 
No  rapture  lavished  e'er   on  lovers   holds 
Comparison  with  that  which  did  renew 
My  soul  like  showers  the  grass  in  July  drouth. 
In  high  adventure  fortune  is  my  lot; 
But  when  I  pressed  her  to  my  heart,  God  wot, 
Against  her  chastity  I  did  not  plot  - 
I  might  have  plucked  the  rose,  and  I  did  not.2 


1)  Cf.  Osw.  7,  52. 

2)  Cf.   CB,  61,  2;  S.  Philips,   uPaolo  and    Francesca":    UI  have  refused    the 
rose,  Although  my  brain  was  reeling  at  the  scent." 


—      171      — 

LX.   John  Hadlaub. 

1. 

Ah  me,  I  saw  her  a  sweet  child  caress, 

And  heaviness  came  o'er  me,  and  a  need  of  joy. 

The  babe  she  pressed,  and  drew  him  to  her  breast: 

I  could  not  rest  for  envy  of  the  boy. 

Her  fingers  took  his  head  in  fond  embrace, 

And  drew  it  to  her  mouth  and  cheeks  so  sweet, 

And  —  do  not  beat,  my  heart!  --  she  kissed  him  to  my  face. 

He  did  as  I  most  certainly  had  done: 
This  mother's  son          as  soon  the  kiss  returned. 
Methought  he  knew  her  sweetness  whom  he  kissed, 
And  that  he  wist  why  so  his  kisses  burned. 

I  could  not  help  to  think  in  envy  grim: 
Ah  me !     Could  I  in  that  child's  skin  but  stand 
Till  she  demand  a  grown   man's  love  of  him! 

I  waited  till  the  boy  had  left  her  side ; 
And  then  I  hied  and  took  upon  my  knees  the  wean, 

Greedy  for  all  the  balm  that  yet  did  lie 
Upon  him:  I  did  fallen  rapture  glean. 

I  hugged  the  limbs  that  she  had  hugged  before: 
I  kissed  from  off  his  cheeks  her  kisses'  scent : 

0  how  it  went,  methought,  to   my  heart's   core! 
They  say  my  story  must  be  insincere 

That  now  they  hear  of  dying  for  the  love  of  her: 

1  should  not  be  so  ruddy  and  so  sleek, 
If  love  did  wreak  the  ruin  I  aver. 
An  they  believe  or  no,  I  am  in  dread 
Of  death:  only  in  hope  I  struggle  on. 

When  that  is  gone  I  shall  at  once  be  dead.1 

2. 

Two  yokels  I  espied, 
With  hand  on  hilt  each  other  rating. 
Rudolf  in  his  wrath  began  to  stammer, 
And  Conrad  cried: 
"You  hold  your  tongue!     What  boots  your  prating? 

i)  Hadlaub  is  perfectly  serious  in  this  poem,  which  has  been  woven  by  Gott- 
fried Keller  into  his  story  "Hadlaub"  in  the  "Ziircher  Novellen". 


172 

I  do  not  care  a  button  for  your  clamour." 

Rudolf  to   him:   "My  Ellen   you  are   wooing, 

My  love  for  whom  is  my  undoing. 

Look  to  your  life,  if  you 

Walk  out  with  her  in  public  view ! 

For  your  sake   our  betrothal   she  is  rueing.'' 

They  part,  and  the  quarrel  now 
Brings  in  their  cronies  from   the  distance; 
With  those  who  would  appease  them   still   they  bicker. 
As  Rudolf  milked  his  cow, 

He  begged  his  friends  around  him  for  assistance: 
"We'll  have  a  spree,  and  I'll  pay  for  the  liquor. 
His  friends  will  stand  by  him,  you  stand  by  me : 
I  shall  a  hero  to  my  Ellen  be ! 
Conrad  I'll  kill; 

The  thin  dogs  on  his  bones   shall  gnaw  their  fill ; 
And  nevermore  shall  he  burd   Ellen  see." 

"Nay,  nay,  we  will  palaver," 
Two  elders   counselled,  and   the  farmer; 
And  went  to  Conrad's  house  to  put  things  straight, 
And  make  them  friends,  but  he  cried:  "He  shan't  have  her! 
A  goat  and  a  hundred  eggs  I  gave  her  to  charm  her! 
I  love  her  with  a  love  inordinate." 

"He'll  compensate  you.     You  shall  not  be  cheated."  — 
"What'll  he  give?     Be  seated."  - 
"Two  goats  and  a  hen." 
"So  be  it  then. 
I  always  yielded  when  good  folks  entreated." 

3. 

The  lasses  find  employment 
Where  yellow  sheaves  are  tied ; x 
And  he  who  seeks  enjoyment, 
Will  find  it  by  their  side. 
Though  with  her   giddy  daughter 
Has  many  a  mother  hied, 
You   will  be   sure   to   thwart   her, 
If  you  are  open-eyed. 


i)  Cf.  LD,  XXXVIII,  70. 


—      173     — 

If  you  desire  to  be  caressed, 
Get  a  girl :  and  you  were  best 
Take  her  in  the  barn  to  rest. 

And  women  plump  and  wedded 
With  strapping  wenches  vie; 
What  .merry  heart  e'er  dreaded 
A  jealous  husband's  eye ! 
Then  up,  ye  stalwart  pages,1 
For  love's  delights  that  sigh, 
The  harvest  brings  the  wages  2 
The  duller  months  deny.3 
Ye  striplings,  there  the  games  are  played 
Ye  need  not  teach  a  lusty  blade ; 
And  an  artful  tongue  did  aye  persuade. 

Fail  not  to  follow  after, 
If  first  away  they  run; 
Their  wrath  will  turn   to  laughter, 
As  after  rain  shines  sun. 
A  page  is  as  good  as  a  crofter 
To  a  girl  that's  in  for  fun : 
And  what  than  straw  is  softer, 
When  jolly  yarns  are  spun? 
It  is  the  same  fine  game  they  play 
Beyond  the  brook,  so  lads,  hurray! 
Come  to  the  harvest !     Up,  away ! 


LXI.  Der  Guoter. 

Upon  the  bed  a  knight  was  laid 
Whence  he  never  more  should  rise ; 
And  unto  him  a  lady  came 
Whose  loveliness  so  high  he  weighed 
It  bore  the  prize,  never  his  eyes 


1)  Hadlaub,    though  a   burgher   poet,    belongs  to  the  school  of  Neidhart,  and 
I  think  it  best  to  read  kneht  in  this  poem  as  =  knappe:  cf.  Frauendienst  16,  2;  Walth. 
51,  123.     But  LD,  LXXVI,  101  =  farm-hand.     See  Reinm.  v.  Z.,  Roethe  139. 

2)  =  Minnelohn,  Minnesold.     Cf.  LD,  XXXIV,   200:  Matz.,  p.  115. 

3)  Cf.  CB  102,3. 


174     — 

Had  seen  a  lovelier  dame. 

She  stood  before  his  bed,  and  said: 

"Say  is  thy  love  now  turned  to  dread? 

Ye  served  me  well  as  long  as  lasted  breath: 

Now  am  I  come,  and  will  reward  thee  after  death." 

Of  gold  her  crown,  and  clustered  lie 
Around  her  girdle  pearls  of  Ind. 
He  saith,  "O  Lady,  who  are  ye?" 
She  answereth,  "The  World  am  I. 
Now  shalt  thou  see  me  from  behind. 
Lo,  this  reward  I  bring  to  thee !" 
Her  hollow  back  of  flesh  was  bare; 
Only  toads  and  worms  were  there ; 
It  stank  foul  as  a  dog  fished  from  a  tank. 
"Alas !  that  I  have  served  thee  I  have  but  myself  to  thank !" 

All  ye  who  have  not  seen  this  dame 
In  her  true  guise,  her  vassals  mark, 
When  grey  their  hair  by  eld  is  dyed. 
One  hath  no  son,  and  one  is  lame, 
And  one  gropes  sightless  in  the  dark: 
Unrighteous  tyranny  and  pride 
The  World  sets  at  them:  they  are  dead 
To  honour:  tasteless  is  their  bread. 

She  steals  wife,  child,  and  wealth,  and  friends  that  clave. 
And  casts  him  wrapped  in  a  thin  sheet  into  the  grave. 

Soon  as  he  lieth  there, 
Comes  the  World  and  brings  to  him 
The  guerdon  of  his  vassalage. 
The  toads  and  worms  do  not  forbear 
To  clean  the  bones  till  not  a  limb 
Is  left.     Now  mark  a  counsel  sage: 
Go  to  the  charnel-house,   and   see 
What  are  your  friends  and  ancestry: 
Beauties,  and  men  of  wealth,  and  men  of  note: 
The  World  has  stuffed  the  poor  man's  leg  into  the  rich 
man's  throat.1 

i)  See  H.  v.  M.,  p.  246. 


—     175     — 

LXII.   Sir  Heinrich  Hetzbold  von  Weiszensee, 

She  greets  me  now,  and  lighted 
My  heart  is  of  its  cares; 
Now  all  my  wrongs  were   righted, 
Could  I  do  what  no  man  dares  - 
If  I  had  the  amorous  science 
But  to  avenge  them  where 
Her  lips  smile  this  defiance: 
"Come  kiss  me  if  you  dare!" 

May  never  harm   befall  her, 
Whose  beauty  is   so  rare 
I  cannot  help  but  call  her 
The  fairest  of  the  fair. 
O  sweeter  lips  and  bolder 
There  are  not  anywhere ; 
They  challenge  each  beholder: 
"Come  kiss  me  if  you   dare !" 

O  love  that  art  my  master, 
Her  heart  of  iron  melt, 
That  arms  of  alabaster 
My  body  yet  may  belt: 
Arms  of  a  virtuous  woman 
To  gird  me  with  delight ; 
An  she  banish  me  or  summon, 
She  is  the  Beauty  Bright. 


LXIII.   Sir  Albrecht  the  Marshal  of  Bapperschwyl, 

Sir  Sidrophel. 

She  holdeth   sway  over  a  pair  of  stars,1 
She  who  my  life  makes  beautiful  or  mars. 
Good  folks,  now  listen  to  my  horoscope, 
Which  in  those  stars  I  read,  interpreting 
The  things  that  are  and  shall  be  happening, 
And  fate  with  which  it  is  in  vain  to  cope:  — 
If  I  were  drawn  into  their  influence  — 


[)  Cf.  Walt,   18,  35;  CB,  50,  16. 


And  it  would  be  no  wonder  if  I  were  — 
That  which  must  happen,  happen  will :  and  thence 
You  may  perceive  that  I  can  make  pretence 
To  be  considered  an  astrologer.1 


LXIV.  Der  Burner. 

A  dream  had  I  O  could  I  dream  again!  - 

I  tell  this  thing  to  you  my  friends  discreetly !  — 

A  rose-tree  high,2  slender,  with  branches  twain 

A-blossoming,  embraced  me  sweetly. 

Beneath  it  violets  and  roses  lay ; 

And  sure  it  seems  to  me,         if  she  will  stay, 

That  her  embrace  shall  bind  me  half  a  day. 

Shall  I  agree? 


LXV.   Sir  Christian  von  Lupin. 

O  she  is  pure,  radiant  and  regnant  with  no  flaw  or  stain! 

Whom  I  obey, 

Slave  to  endure  whatever  trials  ever  she  ordain. 

Now  and  for  aye 

I  will  be  led,  where  she  my  love  shall  lead  me  far  and  near. 

There  never  was,  or  shall  be,  aught  so  red 
As  her  little  mouth  so  dear. 

In  her  smiling  face,         her  greeting,  and  the  glances  of  her  bright 
Eyes,  in  her  demeanour, 

Is  such  a  grace,  ever  my  soul  quailed  at  its  own  delight 

When  I  have  seen  her. 

The  ermine's  coat,         that  does  enrich  the  majesty  of  kings, 
Cannot  be  matched  with  her  soft  hands  and  throat, 
Whiter  than  all  white  things. 

How  I  would  mock  at  my  incarceration  if  she  cared 

To  sound  alarm, 
Take  me  and  lock         my  body  close,  between  each  shoulder  bared, 


i)  Cf.  CB,  61,  9  and   10.  2)  Cf.   Uhland,  Volksl.,  52,  i. 


—     177     — 

By  arm  and  arm. 

With  courage  firmer  than  free   men   know  of,   I  would   seize 

her  head, 

And  vengeful  kiss  her  little  mouth  and  murmur: 
"Take  this  for  being  so  red!" 


LXVI.  Heinrich  von  Mugeln.1 

"My  tassel-gentle's  flown  to  distant  lands; 
He  that  I  reared  is  held  by  stranger  hands. 
Alas,  too  long  I  let  him  try  his  wings. 
Regret  for  this  now  like  a  nettle   stings. 

But  when  the  season  comes  for  him  to  mew: 
When  he  has  lost  his  bells,  and  there  are  few 
Haws  on  the  hedge,  and  all  the  leaves  are  off, 
He'll  wing  him  back  to  his  old  feeding-trough.2 

O  in  his  stead  had  I  a  lanneret! 
To  my  heart's  perch  I  would  chain  down  the  pet. 
What  helpeth  me  the  fish  in  the  sea  deeps? 
Or  the  bold  bird  that  up  the  welkin  sweeps?"'1 


LXVII.   Hugo  von  Montfort. 

All  hail  the  day,  and  the  night  thereof, 
When  first  I  looked  upon  my  love ! 
I  praise  the  hour,  I  praise  the  day, 
When  first  within  these  arms  she  lay. 
I  praise  those  lips  that  on  my  breast 
Shed  such  a  fire  as,  in  the  west, 
Flames  o'er  the  sun's  uncurtained  rest. 

Her  glittering  tresses  I  must  praise; 
I  stand  within  her  clear  eyes'  rays, 
And  let  them  sharply  shoot  me  through; 
I  praise  her  teeth  of  ivory,  too; 

1)  MF,  127,  23;  132,  35. 

2)  An  example  of  unintentional  burlesque. 

3)  LD,  XCVI,  1—4. 

Bithell,  The  Minnesingers.     I.  12 


Her  neck  full  round,  and  not  too  small; 
Her   shoulders   that   do   backward   fall 
To   rear  aloft   those   beryls   tight,1 
Set  in  her   silver  bosom's  light. 

I  praise  her  slender  flanks;  a  man 
Her  waist  can  with  his  fingers   span ; 2 

Her  swan's-down  belly 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *_ 

Venus  with   a   compass   sketched 3 
Her  limbs,  and  such  an  arch  is  stretched 
Beneath  her   feet  they  would  not  crush, 
If  he  walked  under  it,  a  thrush.4 


LXVIII.   Sir  Oswald  von  Wolkenstein. 
l. 

Maid  chosen  out  my  love  to  be, 
The  pleasure  of  the  sight  of  thee 
Hath  freed  me  from  much  agony. 
O  eyas  dear  as  dear  to  me,5 
How  sweet  is  thy  fair-coloured  little  beak ! 6 

She  is  the   fairest  wench  earth  bears ; 
Who  would  paint  her  soon  despairs.7 
White  little  breasts  as  round  as  pears  8 
Like  a  queen's  state  gems  she  wears. 
To  see  hers  all  the  solace  that  1   seek. 

1)  Cf.  XXIII,   17. 

2)  Wackernell   annotates:    uDas   insektenformige   Einschniiren    der  Franen    war 
schon  damals  Mode.''     Cf.  Parz.  410,  4;    Aucassin  und  Nicolete,  ed.  Suchicr  (1889), 
p.  16:  "estoit  graille  parmi  les  flans  qu'en  vos  dex  mains  le  peiis9ies  enclorre." 

3)  See    V,    49.     Cf.    Carew,    "To    A.   D":    uBy  Love's   never   erring  pensill 
drawne";  Wackernell's  note  to  XVIII,   57. 

4)  See  Wackernell's  note,  p.  243;  Weinh.  I,  228. 

5)  "valkenterz",  cf.  Pfaff,  p.  88,  1.  84. 

6)  Cf.  Browning  "In  a  Gondola'':  uDear  loory,  may  his  beak  retain  Ever  its 
delicate  rose  stain". 

7)  See  E.  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p.  101.     Freid.,  104,  g —  m:  tllf  all  the  stars  were 
scriveners,  and  parchment  all  the  skies,  They  could  not  write  the  miracle  that  wrapped 
in  women  lies.'1 

8)  Cf.  Weinh.    I,  227;    H.  v.  M.,    Ill,    25  —  32    with  note  p.  196;    add  Osw. 
30,  23  seq.  (very  quaint);   48,  15;  60,  69.     Carew  (''A  Rapture")   outvies  Osw.  — 
uThe   warme   firme   apple,    tipt   with   corall   berry."       u Aucassin   und    Nicolete",    ed. 
Suchier,  p.  16:  ;tdex  nois  gauges". 


—      179     — 

Blessed  indeed  the  man  who  sips 
The  honey  of  her  rose-red  lips : 
More  blessed  still   is  he   who  clips 
Her  slender  waist  and  rounded  hips. 
Yet  will  I  wait  and  hope  with  spirit  meek. 

2.1 

My  lady-love  is   ever  at  my  call, 
Even  as  the  months  do  in  the  year's  arms  fall. 
Her  spirit  and  her  countenance  have  all 
The  changing  pageants  with  the  months   unfurled.2 
Pale  January's   frost  and  snow  hath  she, 
Soon  as  her  ice-keen  eyes  are  bent  on  me ; 
Unyielding  February  does  not  free 
Hearts  with  the  winter  weary  of  the  world. 
Anon  I  flutter  up  to  joy,  forlorn 
Again  I  grow,  in  March  when  buds  are  born 
To  die  betimes  or  burst,  some  April  morn, 
When  with  a  sunny  dew  the  shoots  are  pearled. 
Lovely  she  is  indeed,   and  fresh,  and  g*ay: 
For  she  is  dowered  with  all  the   sweets  of  May. 
June,  with  the  golden  fulness  of  his  day, 
Lies  in  the  depths  and  shadows  of  her  hair. 
The  ardours  nestle  of  a  July  night 
Between  her  breasts,   cling  to  her  bare   arms  white, 
And  fingers  faint  that  vein  the  dark  with  light. 
Slender  is  she  and  packed  full  as  a  pear 
In  August,  full  of  juice  and  ripe  to  fall ; 
And  like  September,  rich  but  wan  withal, 
Dull  with  the  death  of  days  he  would  recall, 
She  hath  a  brow  embrowned  with  budding  care. 
October  garner  in  all  boons  that  be, 

1)  Complete  inventories  of  a  lady's  beauty,  a  fine  example  of  which  in  English 
is  Carew's  u The  Complement",  occur  only  in  the  later  Minn esong.    SeeDiez,  p.  159; 
Matz.  p.   107;  H.  v.  M.,  p.  243;  Waldb.,  p.  76  seq.;  Bertran  de  Born  ed.  Slimming, 
p.  148  (transl.  Farnell,  p.  114).    Cf.  Shakespeare,  Sonnet  XXI. 

2)  Alfred  Austin  compares   his   love    to    the   months   in  his  sonnet  "An  April 
Love";  Carew   also   in   "The  Spring"    —   which,    by  the  way,  is  a  Minnesong  in  all 
form  —  "only   shee  doth   carry  June   in   her  eyes,   in  her  heart  January";  the  same, 
"To  A.  L.":  "You're  fresh  as  Aprill,  sweet  as  May". 

12* 


—      i8o 

To  set  my  house  in  readiness,  if  she 
Against  November  winds  come  in  to  me, 
To  save  me  in  December  from  despair. 


3. 


If  your  purse  is  full  to  bursting, 

Go  to  Uberlingen,  thirsting. 

Wine  they  have  of  sloes  they  squeeze: 

It  would  make  a  donkey  sneeze. 

Played  the  devil  with  my  throttle. 

Cheap,  you  say?     Five  marks  a  bottle. 

Pluck  up  courage,  eat  your  dinner: 

Sir,  by  nightfall  you'll  be  thinner  — 

Skins  of  flesh  a  man  fights   shy  of, 

Sauerkraut  enough  to  die  of. 

Be  your  body  broad  as  Samson's, 

They  will  clean  you  with  stewed  damsons. 

Flee  the  inn,  buy  in  your  forage: 

Be  content  with  a  bowl  of  porridge. 

Fourteen  mushrooms   cost   fifteen 

Costnitz  shillings  struck  yestreen; 

And  the  leagued  provision-sellers 

For  an  egg  charge  sixteen  hellers. 

Game  is  excommunicated, 

So  is  fish  on  that  vile  coast: 

Only  priests  have  stomachs   sated. 

Order  dinner  :  "We  have  roast." 

Choke  it  down,  straight  comes  mine  host 

"Would  you  be  so  kind  and  pay,  Sir? 

Don't  be  sitting  here  all  day,  Sir!" 

M  y  host   knew   how   guests   are   bled  : 

Parted  gold  from  leather. 


Cf.  59,33  —  36: 

"O  Lake  of  Constance,  on  whose  shore 
I  learned  to  count,   my  purse  feels  sore 
When  I  remember  thee  again. 
'Pay,  pay,  thou  must!'  was  all  their  strain, 
In  the  Hostel  by  the  Willows." 


What  I  paid  him  for  my  bed? 
Only  a  shilling  a  feather. 
Plus  the  stabling,  he  would  peel 
From  an  old  cart  every  wheel. 

4. 

Verdammt,  es  blieb  mir  ein  Madel  hangen. 

A  curly  gem  of  a  girl  had  I 

In  tiberlingen  in  years  gone  by. 

The  girl  of  the  house  I  was  staying  in  there. 

Where  is  she  now?     Is  it  my  affair? 

Two  little  breasts  like  a  flying  bat 

Upon  her  heart's  firm  bustle  1 

She  carried  pat. 

The  way  that  she  could  scratch  and  tussle 

Was  something  to  be  wondered  at. 

Shields  her  narrow  little  feet,2 

Pattering  in  clogs  along  the  street. 

Finely  chiselled   legs  3  like  beeches. 

Something  more   substantial  than  a  sack 

To  sit  on !  *     Thighs  of  scorching  heat.5 

Cheeks   like  peaches. 

Arms,   hands,  as   white  as  rooks  are   black. 

Her  kisses  clung  like  leeches. 

Very  fond,  besides,  of  fisticuffs. 

And  she  could  swear  like  tramps  and  roughs. 

5.G 

It  chanced,  when  I  was  but  a  boy  of  ten, 
Fain  would  I  see  the  world  and  ways  of  men, 


1)  Cf.  5,21. 

2)  Cf.    3,23;    66,23. 

3)  Cf.  36,49  —  50,  56. 

4)  See  36,  72;  66,  19  (ein  dicken  sitz). 

5)  See  66,  21. 

6)  The  details  given  by  Oswald  in  his  autobiographical  poems  may  be  accepted 
as   statements   of  fact.     As  I   wish   to   save  my  topographical  passages  for  my  second 
volume,  —  I  have  myself  been  on  pilgrimage  in  the  Groden  Valley,  and  over  Castel- 
ruth  to  the  Schlern  —  let  me  copy  the  following  passage  from  "A  Midsummer  Ramble 
in   the  Dolomites"   by  Amelia  B.  Edwards,    p.  384:    uFrom    this   point   down    to  the 
Bath-House   at   Ratzes,   the   way   winds   ever   through   fir-forests   which   exclude   alike 


—       1 82       — 

Ran  out  into  distress  one  morning  then, 
With  threepence  and  a  crust  to  help  me  travel. 
Since  then  what  wretchedness  and  pain  untold, 
In  many  a  corner  hot  and  cold, 

With  Christians,  Greeks  and  Heathens  I  have  tholed, 
And  many  a  red  drop  left  on  sand  and  gravel. 
Full  fourteen  year         I  got  no  gear,     and  then  my  father   died. 
Ran  myself  bony         on  Shanks'  pony         in  countries  far  and  wide. 
Found  a  dappled  gray  —         stole  it   I   should   say  -  lost   it 

the  same  way. 

And  then  I  was  a  cook  with  pans  and  platters, 
Ostler  —  that's  hard  labour!  -  trooper  with  a  sabre,         what 

luck  drove  me  to. 

Then  I  pulled  the  oars,         all  among  the  Mores         in  a  galley's 

crew. 
And  often  I  was  dressed  in  rags  and  tatters. 

Through  Prussia,  Lithuania,  Denmark  and  Scania, 
Turkey  and   Tartary,   France,   Lombardy  and  Spain 
Drove  me  my  travelling  mania  and  my  livelihood  to  gain, 
O'er  land  and  sea  in  more  than  one  campaign, 
With  Rupert  and  with  Sigismund,  and  the  Eagle  in  the   Banner. 
Arabic  and  Catalan,  Roumanian  I   could  speak, 
French,   Italian,   German,   Castilian  and   Greek, 
Russian,  Wendish,  Flemish,  Latin  eke. 

And  I  could  whistle,  play  the  drum,  and  fiddle  in  fine  manner. 
I  have  sailed  round         island  and  sound,         and  still   came  free, 
In   stalwart   ships,         from  the   wind  that  whips         the   limbs    of 

the   sea. 
The  Black  Sea  snatched  me,  but  a  barrel  brought  me  off  it : 

the  near  mountains  and  the  distant  view.  About  half-way  down,  we  pass  within 
sight  of  the  ruined  shell  of  Schloss  Hauenstein ,  once  the  home  of  Oswald  von  Wolken- 
stein,  a  renowned  knight,  traveller,  and  Minnesinger,  who  was  born  in  the  year  1367; 
fought  against  the  Turks  at  Nicopolis  in  1396;  was  present  at  the  storming  of  Ceuta 
in  1415;  encountered  innumerable  perils  by  land  and  sea  in  the  Crimea,  in  Armenia, 
Persia,  Asia  Minor,  Italy,  Spain,  England,  Portugal,  and  the  Holy  Land;  and  died 
here  in  the  castle  of  Hauenslein  in  the  year  1445.  He  was  buried  in  the  church  of 
the  famous  Abbey  of  Neustift  near  Brixen,  where  his  tomb  may  be  seen  to  this  day.'' 
(Corrections:  Oswald  was  born  in  1377,  and  there  is  no  documentary  proof  of  his  having 
fought  with  Sigismund  at  Nicopolis,  though  the  annuity  of  300  gulden  granted  him  by 
the  latter  in  1415  refers  to  previous  services). 


-      i83     - 

My  brigantine         drank   too   much   brine :         I   seized   a  tub, 
Which   ferried   me  o'er         the  breakers'  roar         into  the   scrub. 
Deep  lay  my  merchant  wares  with  all   my  profit. 

There  was  a  Queen  of  Aragon,  gentle  and  fair. 
Kneeling  I  raught  to  her  my  beard,1  and  there 
She  fixed  a  ring  with  her  own  hands  into  the  hair. 
"Unloose  it  not,"   she   said,  "to   me   be  loyal!" 
Then  pierced  with  a  fine  brass  needle  both  my  ear-lobes  through, 
And  locked  a  ring  in  each,  as  they  in  Spain  are  wont  to  do. 
I  wore  them  long,  and  they  are  called  "rings  royal." 
Straight  asked  I  for         the  Emperor,         who  did  not  know  me; 
The  cross  he  made,         stared  as  afraid,         then  waved  to  call  me : 
"It's  Wolkenstein         got  up  so  fine :         come  here  and  show  me !" 
Laughing  he  said,  "but  surely  the  rings  gall  thee?" 
Woman  and  man         in  Perpignan         laughed  loud  to  hear  him ; 
And  there  were  nine         of  royal  line         anear   him. 
Pedro  de  Luna,  he  was  Anti-Pope : 
To  end  the  schism  was  the  Emperor's  hope. 

True  is  it,  foolish  ways   I  once  forswore, 
Became  a  kind  of  tramp  2  two  years  or  more ; 
And,  but  that  pleasure  purpose  overbore, 
My  will  had  not  been  better  than  my  deeds. 
I  served  a  lady,  and  for  her  sake  put 
Harness  upon  my  back  and  jousted,  but 
She  cared  for  me  no  more  than  for  a  nut, 
And  fooled  me  with  a  pilgrim's  weeds. 

Small  cheer  had  I         among  the  fry         that   matins   sung, 
Writh  all  the  rags         and  monkish  tags         about   me   hung; 
And  I  grew  sick  of  it,         swore  in  the  thick  of  it,         and   cowl 

and  girdle  flung 
Out  of  the   gable         before  the  stable         on  to   the   dung. 


0  36,  65;  58,  3,  15  (a  girl  in  Augsburg,  '-the  dear  little  doll,  with  her  white 
dress  on,  rushing  about  like  a  he-goat",  asks  him  if  he  follows  the  fashion  of  goats); 
59,  13,  30  (a  girl  in  Costnitz  amuses  herself  by  pulling  the  long  hairs  out  of  his 
beard,  which  was  "strewn  all  about  the  room  as  it  had  been  the  seed  of  the  corn") 
70,  24.  Siiszkind  the  Jew  mentions  his  beard  (LD,  LXXIV,  14  seq.):  "It  is  a 
fool's  errand  I  am  on  with  my  skill  in  song,  but  since  the  lords  grant  me  no  largesse, 
I  will  flee  their  court,  and  let  my  beard  grow  long  with  grey  hairs".  See  Schultz, 
I,  215  seq. 

2)  i.e.,  a  pilgrim;  cf.  26.     "pilgerin"  LD,  XXXVI,   173;  XL1II.    188. 


184 
6. 

Diplomatists  at  Play. 
At  Perpignan. 

It  is  an  ancient  saw  to-day, 
An  hundred  years  and  over, 
And  he  that  ne'er  on  thistles  lay, 
No   comfort  finds   on   clover. 
As  time  goes  on  a  man  grows  riper : l 
And  I  myself  have  paid  the  piper 
In  Spain  and  Catalonia,  where 
Chestnuts  are  the  favourite  fare. 

To  catch  a  bird  by  artifice, 
Take  care  -  -  when  you  have  picked  him  - 
To  put  salt  on  his  tail  -  -  that  is, 
When  you  have  got  your  victim. 
With   trumpet,    drum,    and    clarion, 
And  noisy  Moors  that  carry  on 
With  tambourines,  the  city  greets 
The  Emperor  in  Perpignan  streets. 

Rich  and  poor  were  in  the  crowd. 
I  was   with  dust  nigh   smothered. 
King  Sigismund  by  rulers  proud 
Was  warmly  kissed  and  brothered. 
Eke  by  their  Queens,  and  some  were  young: 
To  these  I  marked  he  rather  clung, 
And  did  not  wipe  his  lips.     Indeed, 
With  ladies  we  had  made  more  speed 

Than  with  the  Devil  and  his  tool, 
That  sneaking  cat,2  that  Peter! 
Had  he  been  stabbed,  it  were  no  fool 
Had  done  the  deed,  and  meeter 
Than  so  to  stew  for  eighteen  weeks, 
While   ever  prelate  whines  and  speaks : 
And  I  had  dirged  my  deep  regret 
With  bagpipes  on  a  waggonette. 

But  sure  I  ne'er  saw  longer  tails  a 
Than  there  on  ladies'  dresses! 

1)  Cf.  MF,  157,  i—2. 

2)  Cf.  87,  45;  102,  23.  There  is  said  to  have  been  a  plot  to  assassinate  Sigisnmnd. 

3)  Cf.  LD,  LXXIII,   17. 


-     i85     - 

The  lion  and  the  peacock  pales! 

And  as  to  their  caresses  — 

Shaking  hands  no  custom  is : 

They  offer  you  a  smacking  kiss  *  — 

Far  sweeter  greeting,   as  I  think; 

And  all   have  rings   in   ear-lobes  pink.2 

;;<  #**!<###* 

Those  shavelings   hatched   such   cunning  tricks, 
With  all  their  bowing  and  scraping! 
What  time  a  mattress  hard  as  bricks 
Kept  me  a-yawning  and  gaping. 
Sleepless  nights   on  it  I  had, 
It  came  from  an  old  cow,  by  Gad, 
That  had  been  operated  on,3 
As  a  dumb  man  told  me  a  year  agone. 

The  Duke  of  Brieg4  he  was  no  prig: 
You  should  have  heard  him  snoring! 
And  oft  I  rose  without  my  clothes, 
And  gave  him  a  "good  morning". 
Raving  to  his  boots  he'd   rush, 
And  with  an   oath  that  made   me  blush, 
Chase  and  in   my  bed  bombard  me, 
Where  I  had  naught  but  sheets  to  guard  me! 

Count  Ottingen,5  with  his  "tick-tick", 
At  dawn  my  top-nut  batters, 
As  you  may  see  a  raven   pick 
A  dead  bull's  brow  to  tatters. 
The  matins  I   rung  made   a  din ! 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  ,his   skin 

~~i)  Cf.  86,  21. 

2)  =  ring  in  den  oren,  nagelrot.  'Lexer  only  quotes  this  passage  to  nagelrot  =  rot 
wie  ein  Nagel.     As   far  as   the   translation   into  English   is  concerned,  it  seems  better 
to  delete  the  comma,  but  cf.   36,  69  "Ir  naglin  rot  mich  machen  krank,  die  sein  ein 
michel  teil  ze  lank";  "glander  negel",  quoted  Weinh.  I,  227;  and  Joachim  du  Bellay, 
(in   his   sonnet   "O   beaux   cheveux  d'argent  mignonnement  retors"),   "O  beaux  ongles 
dores".     Perhaps,   therefore,   a   better   translation   would   be:     "And   such  a  greeting 
more  avails.     Rings   in    their  ears,   as  red  as  nails".     For  the  "schrofier  tlbergang" 
(Heine,  uHarzreise")  I  should  not  be  responsible. 

3)  Mumme  =  ein  verschnittenes  Tier  weiblichen  Geschlechtes. 

4)  The  son-in-law  of  Friedrich  von  Hohenzollern. 

5)  Sigismund's  major-domo. 


—      186     — 

In  places  yet  is  black  and  blue 

With  the  flung  force  of   some  hard  shoe. 

Jt  would  take  long  to  tell  the  lot, 
And  so  I  make  it  shorter. 
Baumgarten  poured   on   Fritz  *  a  pot 
Of  real  holy  water. 

You  should  have  seen  the  yellow  streaks 
Streaming  down  his  shirt  and  cheeks : 
It  was  not  long  ere  Fritz  awoke, 
And  saw  the  meaning  of  the  joke. 

:;-.  #  *  *  *  *  * 

At  Paris. 

A  noble  name   they  found  for  me: 
"Viscount  of  Turkey" !  —  Yea, 
And  many  a  man  deemed  me  to  be 
A  captive  pagan  Bey. 
King  Sigismund  gave  me  a  splendid 
Gown  of  gold  with  silver  blended; 
And  in  such  Moorish  garb  I  pranced, 
Sang  them  heathen  songs,   and  danced. 

#  *  *  ift  *  *  90 

As  far  as  I  hear,  sing  and  say,2 
And  see  the  world  how   fares  it, 
A  knapsack,  at  the  judgment  day, 
Is  worth  the  strap  that  bears  it: 
A  belfry  tower  a  vinaigrette : 
All  value  on  the  soul  be  set, 
Lest  you  be  sent  to  brimstone  hot ; 3 
And  may  my  poems  damn  me  not. 

7. 

From  purity's  pure  rocks  and  high 
Did  passion's  pool  attract : 
Deep  in  its  vortex  whirled  was  I : 
Now  washed  upon  the  banks  I  lie, 
A  pebble  cleaned  and  polished  by 


1)  Frieclrich    von   Hohenzollern ,    who    was    invested    by   Sigismund    with    the 
March  of  Brandenburg. 

2)  Cf.  61,3;  93,  i. 

3)  A  Dantesque  description  of  hell  in  98. 


18; 

That  raging  cataract. 
Yet  such  is  life,  if  there  should  be 
Of  hundred  stones  one  left,  you'd  see 
He  would  come  tumbling  after  me. 

8.1 

"Out  and  at  them!"  says   Sir   Michael  von  Wolkenstein; 
"Follow  after!"  says   Sir  Oswald  von   Wolkenstein; 
"To  horse !"  says  Sir  Leonard  von  Wolkenstein. 
And  they  must   flee   from   Greifenstein  to   Bozen   double  quick. 

Dust  and  din  all  down  the  slope,  and  medley  in  the  wood! 
We  drove  them  down  the  gullies  till  they  reeked  with  blood. 
Helmet,  mail,  and  battle-axe,  sword  and  cross-bow  good 
They  left  us  in  remembrance,  and   strewed  the  hill-side  thick. 

The  ash  of  tent  and  baggage  was  by  the  castle  sprent. 
A  usurer  should  be  careful  to  whom  his  gold  is  lent; 
And  if  I  dare  to  say  it,  you  know  the  man  is  meant. 
This  is  the  way  we  pay  you  back,  O  sly  Duke  Frederick. 

By  the  "Robber's  Stone"  it  happed,  as  you  would  have  your  jest, 
A  rivet  of  a  good  arm's  length,  in  many  a  burgher's  chest, 
Nailed  him  to  the  mountain  wall  at   some  cross-bow's  behest. 
Good  burghers  come  to  skirmish  here,  this  jest  is  not  so  stale. 

The  farmers  of  St.  Jiirgen,  not  one   of  them  holds  back, 
Had  sworn  to  raze  the  "Robber's  Stone/'  and  burn  "it  like  a  stack. 
The   good  men  of  our  garrison  shout   down  to  them:  "Alack! 
Good   neighbours,   here   ye    should   be    ranged,   your   honour    is 
but   frail." 

A  flinging  and  a   shooting,   a  turmoil  and  a   strife ! 
This  hashing  with  a  sword's  more  sport  than  carving  with  a  knife. 
Now  stir  your  limbs,  good  farmer,  you  save  or  lose  your  life ! 
On  many  a  house  and  arsenal  the  arrows  flew  like  hail. 

i)  Duke  Frederick  awith  the  Empty  Pocket"  of  Austria  had  been  put  under 
the  ban  of  the  Empire  on  account  of  his  support  of  Pope  John  XXIII  at  the  Council 
of  Constance  (1414 — 1418).  His  brother  Ernst  made  an  attempt  to  secure  the  ducal 
throne  for  himself,  and  in  the  fighting  which  ensued  the  Austrian  barons,  prominent 
among  whom  were  the  three  brothers  von  Wolkenstein,  were  leagued  against  Frederick. 
In  1418  the  stronghold  of  the  Starkenbergers ,  the  most  powerful  of  Frederick's  enemies, 
was  besieged  by  the  ducal  troops,  reinforced  by  the  peasants  of  the  surrounding 
villages,  with  the  result  indicated  in  the  poem.  In  spite  of  his  defeat  at  Greifenstein 
(=  Griffin's  Stone,  sarcastically  changed  to  "Robber's  Stone",  as  the  poem  mentions), 
Frederick  succeeded  in  reducing  the  barons  to  submission. 


1 88     — 

There  came  the  stalwart  burghers  of  Bozen  and  Meran : 
Hafning  brave  and  Melten  good  led  them  in  the  van, 
All  the  villagers  of  Sarten,  many  a  valiant  man. 
They  thought  to  trap  us  in  the  mesh,  but  we  broke  through  the 
mail.    ' 

9. 

Never  more  to  roam  again. 

Through  Barbary,  Arabia,  through  Armenia  to  Persia,  through  Tartary  to 
Syria,  through  Byzantine  Greece  to  Turkey,  Spain  —  I  have  forgotten  all  the  countries 
I  went  gadding  about  in.  Through  Prussia,  Russia,  over  Courland  to  Lithuania  and 
Livonia,  to  Denmark  and  Sweden,  and  thence  to  Brabant;  through  Flanders,  France, 
England  and  Scotland ;  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  was  there.  Through  Aragon ,  Castile, 
Granada  and  Africa,  Portugal  and  Spain  as  far  as  Cape  Finisterre,  to  Marseilles  in 
Provence, 

And  thence   to   Ratzes   by  the   Schlern ; 
Where,   caught   in   marriage   bonds   and   pain, 
Life's  wretched  mill-wheel  now  I  turn, 
Bread  for  all  my  brats  *  to  earn, 
Against  the  grain. 

Perched  on  a  dizzy  summit  steep, 
With  forest  dense  o'ergrown, 
I  survey  from  my  castle-keep 
Snow-clad  peak  and  valley  deep, 
Thicket,   rock,  and   stone. 

Honours  devised  for  my  behoof 
To  pay  me  for  my  song, 
Old  pleasures  shared  with  princes  throng, 
I  pay  for  now  beneath  one  roof. 
The  end  is  long. 

My  fire's  burnt  out,  I  stand  besides 
The  ashes  of  old  glories : 
Cattle  cropping  mountain  sides, 
Ugly  louts  with   horny  hides 
To  listen  to  my  stories. 

At   my  commands   my   men   now   scoff, 
Who  once  did  what  I  told  them  to. 

i)  Oswald  seems  to  have  had  seven  children;  see  Schatz  p.  13,  note.  Sweet- 
Child  the  Jew  of  Trimberg  also  complains  of  the  difficulty  of  feeding  his  children  (LD, 
LXXIV,  5).  Cf.  also  102;  60,  89;  LD,  XXXVI,  203  seq.;  Neidh.  37,  55  seq., 
50  b,  144  seq. 


—      1 89 

And  as  to  girls,  my  hair  is  off ; x 
My  singing  is  a  wheezing  cough,2 
My  lips  are  blue. 

Still  there   is   always   something  new: 
Cry  of  peacocks,  song  of  asses. 
The   everlasting  brook  here,  whew ! 
It  nearly  roars  my  head  in  two. 
Thus  time  passes. 

The  worst   of  all  the  damned   old  racket, 
My   children's   piteous   wails! 
O  my  tympanum,  they'll  crack  it! 
And  if  I  up  and  dust  their  jacket, 
Their  mother/  with  all  sails 

Set,  swoops  down  to  save  her  pet, 
And  bites  my  head  off :  "Sir,  unhand  it !  — 
You've  beat  it  to  an  omelette!" 
She'll  pummel  me  and  smack  me  yet; 
But  I  shan't  stand  it. 

Stirred  up  by  venomed  foes  of  mine, 
The  prince  I  serve  looks  on  me  sourly. 
Hungry  wolves  prowl  now  and  whine 
Around   my  castle   Hauenstein, 
And  will  devour  me. 


LXIX.   Life  and  Death  of  the  Noble  Brennenberger.4 

Fit  I. 

In  Vienna  town  at  the  Austrian  court 
A  thousand  tongues  are  ringing 
With  what  the   Brennenberger  hath 
To   the   noble   Duchess   been   singing. 


1)  See  93,  20  —  24. 

2)  See  93,  33. 

3)  Cf.  64,  104. 

4)  "Der  Brennenberger"    was  a  Minnesinger  in   whose   poems  I   find  nothing 
original  enough  to  repay  translation ,  but  the  middle  ages  spun  a  gradual  web  of  Table 
round  his  figure,  and  the  following  "Meistergesang",  together  with  the  Ballad  of  Sir 
Tannhauser,   and   the  folk-songs  which  follow,    may  not  be  out  of  place  as  specimens 
of    the   poetry   which   was   sung   when    the   German   muse   became   a   gypsy,   haunting 
camp-fires  at  night,  and  breathing  from  the  lips  of  boys  and  girls. 


"O  Brennenberger,  dear  vassal   of  mine, 
Art  thoti   indeed  in   earnest, 
To  sing  there  is  no  lady   so  fair 
Whithersoever   thou    turnest?"    — 

"Yea,  lady,  the  fairest  of  women  are  you ! 
These  fables  that  men  weave 
Of  the  beauty  of  the  Queen  of  France 
I   never   can   believe." 

"Yet  will  I  rest  not  till  this  skein 
Of  lies  some  man  unravels. 
Take  thou  my  gold,  and  jewels  sheen, 
And  get  thee   on  thy  travels. 

And  when  thou  seest   the  Queen  of  France, 
Be  judge  between  us  twain: 
And  she  who  winneth   beauty's  prize, 
Shall  pay  thee  for  thy  pain." 

"O  lady,  if  ill  news  I  bring, 
I  lose  my  hopes  of  Heaven; 
But  I  am  sure  I  shall  tell  you  a  tale 
With  a  merry  heart  and  steven." 

Fit  II. 

Now  he  has  come  to  Paris  town, 
With  jewels  and  with  gold; 
And  there  to  the   inn-keeper's  wife 
He  hath  his  purpose  told. 

"Sit   in  a   huckster-woman's  weeds, 
The  castle-gate  before, 

And  cry,  when  the  Queen   comes  forth  to  church : 
'Come  buy  my  jewels  store !' 

Now  he  became  a  huckster-wife, 
And  spread  his  wares  to  view; 
And  it  was  bruited  at  the  Court, 
And  when  the  fair  Queen  knew, 

She  called  her  page,  and  charged   him  so : 
"Before  my  face  go  summon  — 
With  stealth  and  care,  lest  the  King  should  know 
This   wealthv  huckster-woman." 


The  huckster  came  into  the  Queen's  bright  bower; 
She  could   not  trust  her  eyes. 
"God  sain  you,  most  noble  Queen,"  she  said; 
"Your   noble  ladies   likewise." 

The  Queen   she  took  her  by  the  hand, 
With   snow-white   hands   and  tender; 
She  bought  her  bracelets,  she   bought  her  rings : 
There  was  no  end  of  the   splendour. 

Now  this  went  on  till  the  evening  came, 
The   huckster   was   in    sorrow: 
"Where  shall  I  lie  this  night  ?"   she  said : 
"Good  store  is  left  for  to-morrow." 

Brennenberger  thought:   "I  would  I   were  at  home; 
I  am  not  made  of  stone. 
If  you  vouchsafe,  most   noble  Queen, 
I  fain  would  sleep  alone." 

The  Queen  spoke  out:  "That  may  not  be; 
Thou  must  be  bedded  meetly. 
For  thy  neck-laces  and  rings  of  price 
We  must  with  honour  treat  thee. 

Now  I  have  here  twelve  maidens   dear: 
Lie  with  the  youngest  together: 
Lie  close  and  warm,  and  fear  no  harm 
From   this  inclement   weather." 

It  was  about  the  time  of  Yule, 
The  longest  nights  of  the  year: 
Brennenberg  lay  with  the  youngest  maid, 
He  lay  in  dule  and  fear. 

Sore  dismayed  by  the  gentle  maid; 
His  elbow  out  he   bent: 
Had  he  not  called  upon  the  Saints, 
The   Devil  him  had  shent. 

Fit  III. 

The  huckster  rose  at  break   of  day; 
She   was  in  evil  plight : 

Twelve  days  the  Queen  there  kept  her  pent, 
With  another  maid  each  night. 


—     192     — 

The  thirteenth  day  out  spoke  the  Queen 
"With  all  my  maids  ye  lay; 
Now  lie  with  me  this  last  night  of  all, 
We  will  part  at  the  break  of  day." 

He  was   afeared  of   such  rich   meed, 
His  face  did  blood-red  burn! 
"Most  noble  Queen,  O  let  it  wait 
Till  I  again  return. 

I  will  return  with  richer  wares, 
Which,  if  they  you  delight  — 
And  O,  if  the  King,  your  noble  Lord, 
Should  come  to  you  at  night!"  — 

"The  King  comes   not  to  me  at  night ; 
He  is  to  me  a  stranger. 
The  King  has  shunned  me  ever  so  long, 
Thy  honour  will  be  in  no  danger. 

And  warders  three  in  my   service  stand, 
Of  his  approach  to  warn: 
We  will  of  knights  and  heroes  talk, 
Until  the  break  of  morn." 

Brennenberg  was  in  sore  distress: 
"With  the  Queen  so  close  to  me, 
She  is  so  fair,  it  would  be  my  death: 
Worsted  I  should  be. 

And  if  I  harmed  the  lady  fair, 
I  should  for  ever  rue: 
Hers  of  Austria  is  my  heart, 
I  will  to  her  be  true." 

Fit  IV. 

And  when  they  went  to  bed  that  night, 
They  sought  for  the  huckster  in  vain: 
Brennenberg  never  rested  an  hour, 
Till  he  came  to  Vienna  again. 

"Brennenberg,  thou  dear  vassal  of  mine, 
How  hath  it  gone  with  thee,  say?"  — 
"O  lady,  ill  and  well,  and  I 
Twelve  days  a  prisoner  lay. 


—     193     — 

Twelve  nights   with   tender  virgins  twelve : 
A  youth  distressed  was  I ! 
And  the  last  night  of  all  the  Queen  herself 
Desired  with  me  to   lie. 

My  huckster's   heart  was  ill  bestead, 
This  had  I  not  withstood: 
I  slunk  out  of  the  city-gate, 
And  fled  as  fast  as  I  could."  — 

"Alas,  that  e'er  I  counselled  thee 
On  her  to  cast  thine  eyes ! 
But  say,   my  love,   to  whom  wouldst  thou 
Adjudge  all  beauty's  prize?" 

"O  lady,  she  is  Heaven  on  earth, 
None  can  be  peer  to  her; 
Her  face  was  like  a  sun,  it  seemed 
As  if  in  Heaven  I  were."  — 

"And  if  thou  deemest  her  fairer  than  I, 
Sing  thou  thy  songs  to  her; 
Go    back   to   France   again    forthwith, 
To  be  her  servitor."  — 

"Nay,  noble  lady,  I  say  not  so, 
You  dwell  in  my  heart's  core : 
I   know  no  fairer  woman  than  you, 
For  whom  I  suffer  sore."  — 

"Yet  didst  thou  say,  a  fairer  dame 
Thine   eyes   did   never   see."   — 
"Yea,  verily;  it  must  have  been 
Her  beauty  blinded  me. 

Yet  you  have   fairer  neck  and  chin, 
And  nobler  is  your  mien; 
But  after  you  no  woman  is 
So  lovely  as  the  Queen. 

And  if  she  were  twenty  times  fairer  than  you, 
You  is  it  I  would  praise; 
For  to  you  belong  my  heart  and  mind, 
To   you   belong  my  lays." 

Bithell,  The  Minnesingers.  13 


—      194     — 

Fit  V. 

Now  had  the  noble  Brennenberg 
Sung  song  on  song  abounding 
In  praises  of  his   mistress   high, 
From  land  to  land  resounding. 

The  Duke  he  was  an  angry  man, 
And  to  suspicion  prone : 
"Ye  woo  my  wife  so  much,  ye  yet 
May  with  your  life  atone." 

He  hired  three  murderers  with  red  gold, 
That  never  pity  knew; 
They  tore  his  heart  hot  out  of  his  breast, 
And  mocked  him  while  they  slew. 

At  eve  the  cook,  in  a  golden  dish, 
Did  serve  it,  spiced  sweet: 
And  her  red  mouth  did  eat  the  heart, 
That  but  for  her  had  beat. 

"And  do  ye  know  what  now  ye  ate, 
The  larks  baked  in  the  pie?"  - 
"I  do  not  know,  it  tasted  sweet, 
And  fain  to  know  were  I."  — 

"It  was  the  heart  of  Brennenberg, 
Who  often  you  delighted: 
He  brought  you  ever  much  joy  and  glee : 
So  is  false  love  requited." 

The  Duchess  wox  as  pale  as  death, 
As  pale  as  death  wox  she: 
"And  if  I  have  eaten  the  heart  of  the  knight, 
Who  brought  me  joy  and  glee, 

Thereafter  I  will  drain  a  draught, 
Such  draught  I  straight  will  drain, 
That  food  or  drink  shall  nevermore 
Pass  my  lips  again." 

Then  did  the  noble  Duchess  rise, 
And  to  her  chamber  go: 
"Mary,  Queen  of  Heaven,  to  thee 
I  plain  my  anguished  woe. 


—     195     — 

I  must  for  ever  grieve  for  him; 
For  my  sake  he  was   killed: 
My  anguish  for  his  guiltless  death 
Can  but  by  death  be  stilled. 

Thou  knowest,  he  never  came  so  near 
That  he  might  me  embrace; 
And  he  had  rather,  for  noble  fear, 
Fled  a  hundred  miles  from  my  face. 

To  thee  I  plain,  my  heart  is  sore; 
I  die  in  agony; 

For  thy  Son's  Passion's  sake,  give  thou 
Eternal  peace  to  me." 

Merciful   Mary  lifted   her  up, 
And  in  her  bosom  cherished: 
The  Duke  was  put  to  the  Empire's  ban, 
And  soon,  repentant,  perished. 


LXX.  Folk-songs. 
1. 

Matin-song. 

The  warder,  from  his  watch-tower  high, 
Blares  forth  the  baneful  morning  nigh. 
"Arise,  O  comrade!     Heart  and  heart, 
That  would  be  fain  no  more  to  part, 
Are  sundered  soon! 
Through  the  greenwood  gleams  the  moon." 

"O  truelove,  mark  the  words  I  say, 
It  is  not  nigh  unto  the  day. 
Through  the  rack  shine  moon  and  star, 
Our  joy  the  warder  fain  would  mar; 
I  tell  thee,  sweet: 
The  midnight  cannot  be  so  fleet." 

He  pressed  her  closely  to  his  breast, 
He  said:  'Thou  makest  my  heart  blest! 
The  rapture  of  my  heart  art  thou; 
All  my  pain  is  vanished  now. 

13* 


—     196 

I  swear  to  thee: 

So  dear  as  thou  is  none  to  me." 

What  is  this  thing  his   ringers   hold? 
It  is  a  ring  of  the  good  red  gold. 
"See,  love,  the  red  gold!     Oft  I   swore, 
I  loved  thee  in  my  deep  heart's  core! 
I  did  not  He: 
For  thee  I'd  lay  me  down  and  die!" 

The   nightingale   sang  from  the    spray, 
As  she  had  sung  so  many  a  day. 
Now  all  the  East  was  purpled  o'er : 
"Hearts  that  were  fain  to  part  no  more, 
Are  parted  soon. 
Through  the  green  wood  gleams  the  moon." 

2. 

Jocund  Day. 

Beloved,  now  awake 
To  parting  and  to  fears! 
The  wildwood  singers  make 
Music  sweet  as  music's  tears, 
With  choral  pipings  rent  and  blent: 
I  see  a  host  of  glittering  spears, 
Onrushing  in  the  Orient. 

Hark,  how  the  cocks  are  crowing! 
The  day  is  growing  light; 
The  cool  winds  are  blowing, 
The  stars  are  shining  bright. 
Dame  Nightingale  is  ringing  us, 
To  stay  the  heels  of  coward  night, 
A  matin-song  melodious. 

See  how  the  heavens  glide 
From  white  to  violet; 
And  now  in  gray  is  dyed 
The  welkin  that  was  jet. 
The  crimson  host  is  sweeping  on ; 
While   straggler   shadows   skirmish  yet, 
Arise,  my  love!  let  me  be  gone. 


197 
3. 

Serenade.1 

Come  now,  and  let  us  wake  them:  time 
It  is  that  they  arise ! 
But  gently  to  the  window  climb, 
Where  love  with  love  together  sleeping  lies. 

I  heard  a  gently  flowing  river: 
Methought  it  was  the   Rhine. 
And  at  her  window,  with  his  quiver, 
Stood  Cupid   shooting  at  a  love  of   mine. 

I  brake  three  lilies  from  their  stem, 
And  in  at  the  window  threw : 
Sleeping  or  waking,  cherish  them; 
And  rise,  sweet  love,  and  let  me  in  to  you. 

"How  would  it  be,  were  I  asleep, 
And  could  not  let  you  in? 
For  I  am  lying  now  so  deep 
My  truelove's  arms  within." 

If  you  do  in  your  love's  arms  lie, 
Deep  in  the  arms  of  love, 
And  if  your  love  should  not  be  I : 
On  me  have  mercy  God  in  Heaven  above! 

And  he  who  made  this  little  song, 
And  set  it  to  the  tune, 
He  thought  it  over  well  and  long, 
And  sang  it  for  "Good-Night"  beneath  the  moon. 

4. 

Uber  die  braune  Haid'. 

There  did  a  fair-eyed  maiden  stand, 
Washing  her  shirts  by  the  river  strand, 
A  gallant  knight  was  singing; 
She  waved  to  him  with  her  snow-white   hand, 
To  help  her  do  her  wringing. 

"O   maiden,  wilt  thou  fare  with  me, 
To  break  the  rose-buds  from  the  tree, 

i)  See  Jeanr.,  p.  145  — 146. 


198    — 

On  yonder  grass-green  meadow?" 

"Sir  Knight,  I  will  not  fare  with  thee, 

Unless  the  flowers  be  red  O !" 

"O  maiden,  will  you  fare  with  me, 
To  pull  the  ripe  pears  from  the  tree, 
Out  yonder  on  the  moors  O? 

0  maiden,  if  you  come  with  me, 
The  ripe  ones  shall  be  yours  O !" 

"Ere  I  will  o'er  the  moorlands  stray, 
I'll  ask  my  mother  if  I  may  - 
My  mother  first  must  know,   Sir. 
But  if  my  mother  say  not  nay, 
I'll  venture  it,  and  go,  Sir." 

5. 

Up  the  hill  a  horseman  gay, 
What  does  he  see  beside  the  way? 
A  maiden  fair,  she  was  eighteen. 

He  spoke  to  her  upon  the  hill : 
"Come  thou  with  me,  and  do  my  will, 
And  hunt  upon  the  moorlands  green." 

"I  will  not  do  your  will,  and  follow 
To  hunt  o'er  grassy  hill  and  hollow, 
But  I  will  keep  my  maidenhead. 

On  my  brown  hair  I  wear  a  wreath, 
And  I  have  come  out  on  the  heath, 
To  gather  roses  red." 

She  was  a  maid  of  eighteen  years; 
And  when  she  broke  the  first  rose,  tears 
Ran  down  her  face  her  bosom  on. 

"Now  do  you  weep  for  lack  of  wealth, 
Or  haply  for  a  ruined  health, 
Or  for  your  honour  lost  and  gone?" 

"I  do  not  weep  for  lack  of  wealth, 

1  do  not  weep  for  ruined  health, 
But  for  a  ruined  maidenhead. 


I   weep  my  rose-wreath  lost  and  gone, 
At  Straszburg  on  the  bastion: 
My  wreath   of  roses  red." 

6. 

Schnadahiipferl. 

My  love  is  a  trooper,  a  trooper  so  fine: 
The  horse  is  the  Kaiser's,  the  trooper  is  mine. 

My  heart  is  a  true  one,  and  locked  with  a  key: 
A  lad  has  the  key  of  it,  only  he. 

True  am  I,  true  shall  be,  my  heart  is  true, 
In  Frankfurt,  in  Straszburg,  Vienna  too. 

The  higher  the  church-tower,  the  sweeter  the  chimes 
I  love  him  the  better,  the  farther  the  climes. 

The  church-spire  peeps  over  the  top  of  the  hill: 
The  priest  shall  make  one  of  the  two  of  us  still. 

Above  my  house  hover  two  snow-white  doves : 
He  will  not  deceive  me,  for  me  he  loves. 

7. 

Schnadahupferl. 

My  love  is  gone  from  me,  I  see  him  no  more : 
I  look  such  a  fright  now,  I  miss  him  so  sore. 

My  love  is  gone  from  me,  far  over  the  seas: 
I  dare  not  think  of  it,  my  heart  has  no  ease. 

My  love  is  in  Hungary,   I'm  by  the  Rhine: 
I  cannot  forget  him,  this  truelove  of  mine. 

Two  ducks  on  the  pond,  and  two  fish  in  the  sea: 
Love  sinks,  and  will  never  again  rise  for  me. 

What  helps  me  an  apple,  as  red  as  may  be? 
What  helps  a  fair  sweetheart,  parted  from  me? 

I  love  him  for  ever,  though  seas  do  us  part. 
And  what  have  I  for  it?     A  broken  heart. 

i)  Cf.  poem  by  Heinrich  von  Miigeln. 


—       200       — 

8.1 

Je  sent  les  douls  mals  leis  ma  senturete. 

What  is  the  sweetest  joy  on  earth? 
To  be  in  a   convent,  lonely. 
Wherefore   I  to  live  behind 
A  grating  cold  am  now  resigned.  — 

0  Love,  what  have  I  done! 

Each  morn,  when  I  to  chapel  go, 

1  chant  the  psalter,  lonely. 

And  when  I  the  Gloria  Patri  sing, 
My  truelove  I  am  remembering.  - 
O  Love,  what  have   I   done! 

My  mother  and  father  visit  me ; 
They  pray  together,   lonely. 
And  they  are  clad  like  the  gay  pea-fowl, 
And  I  am  shrouded  in  cord  and  cowl.  - 
O  Love,  what  have  I  done! 

At  evening,  when  I  go   to  bed, 
The  bed  in  my  cell  is  lonely. 

And  then  I  think  -  -  O  God,  where's  the  harm !  — 
That  I  had  my  truelove  in  my  arm!  — 
O  Love,  what  have  I  done! 

9. 

Malois  soil  de  Deu  ki  me  list  nonnete. 

God  send  to  him  a  lean  twelve  months 
Who,  in  my  own  despite, 
A  sooty  mantle  put  on  me, 
All  and  a  cassock  white. 

And  if  I  must  become  a  nun, 
Let  me  but  find  a  page, 
And  if  he  is  fain  to  cure  my  pain, 
His  pain  I  will  assuage. 

i)  Rather  than  translate,  as  an  example  of  the  nun-songs  (chansons  de  nonne, 
Nonnenklagen) ,  the  prolix  composition  LD,  XCVIII,  581  seq.,  I  have  selected  the 
two  following  Volkslieder.  See  Jeanroy,  p.  189  seq. 


201        

10- 

La  mer  a  boire. 

There  is  a  nut-brown  maid  I  know, 
Would  God  that  she  were  mine! 
Then  she  from  oaten  straw   should  spin 
For  me  a  brown  silk  twine.  — 

"If  I  from  oaten  straw  shall  spin 
A  brown  silk  twine  for  thee, 
Then  thou  from  oaken  leaves  must  cut 
Two  purple  robes  for  me." 

If  I  from  oaken  leaves  shall  cut 
Two  purple   dresses  fine, 
Then  thou  must  fetch  me  the  scissors  from 
The   bottom  of  the   Rhine.  — l 

"And  if  I  shall  fetch  thee  the  scissors  from 
Coblentz   upon  the   Rhine, 
Then  thou  must  count  the  stars  for  me 
That  in  the  heavens  shine/' 

And  if  I  shall  count  the  stars  for  thee, 
That  twinkle  in  the   sky, 
Then  thou  must  build  a  ladder  for  me, 
That  I  may  climb  so  high. 

IV 

Tant  soie  je  brunete. 

If  I've  a  swarthy  skin, 
I  cannot  make  it  white. 
It  is  my  mother's  sin: 

1)  Cf.   Tannhauser's    poem   (translation    2).      Sudi   tasks   are  often   set  in  the 
Kalevala;  cf.,  in  Kirby's  translation,  Runo  VII,  311—318,  VIII,  93—98,  108—112, 
123  —  132.       Gummere,     "Popular    Ballad",    pp.    139  seq.;    Uhland,    Schriften    III, 
pp.  213  seq. 

2)  See  note,  p.  118,  and  cf.  further  E.  Schmidt,  Reinmar.,  p.  112,  Frauend., 
XXXIX,  49,  56,  and  Wackern.,  Kl.  Schr.,  I,  p.  161  seq.     If,  as  Wackernagel  sug- 
gests, the  identification  in  old  German  poetry  of  white  with  beautiful  (cf.  A.  S.  Blach- 
leor  idis,  Judith  128)   and  of  black   with   ugly   (cf.  Marlowe,  "Hero  and  Leander ", 
I,  50:  kt Since  Hero's  time  hath  half  the  world  been  black"),  is  owing  to  a  difference 
in  races,   it  is  curious  that  in  Finnish  poetry  "Kulta"  (=  golden)  should  be  used  of 
anything  dear,  precious,  or  beautiful  (cf.  Kalevala,  transl.  by  Kirby  I,   n  note,  XIV, 
69   note).     (Cf.  Dowden's   note  to  Shakspere's  sonnet  CXXVII,  and  Massinger,  "A 
New  Way   to  Pay  Old  Debts",    III,  2:    "A   black-brow'd   girl,   my   lord".)     In   the 


2O2        


She  did  not  wash  me  clean, 

When  I  was  but  a  wean, 

When  I  was  such  a  tiny  little  mite. 

12.1 

Beside  my  truelove's  pillow 
A  golden  casket  fine 
Stands  with  a  heart  locked  in  it, 
A  heart  that  once  was  mine ; 
O  God,  had  I  the  key  on't, 
I'd  throw  it  in  the  Rhine ! 
Could  I  be  by  my  truelove, 
How  could  I  there  repine? 


Kalevala  the  heroes  have  black  hair,  and  the  heroines  golden  hair;  in 'Irish  poetry 
often  blond:  "muirnin  na  griiaige  baine",  "Nora  an  ciiil  omra",  "cuilin  ban". 
It  is  surprising  that  in  the  Minnesong  so  little  should  be  made  of  the  length  of  the 
ladies'  hair;  cf.  LD,  XLVII,  "ir  har  reit  val  ze  maze  lane",  very  pale  praise  beside 
the  gorgeous  Irish  (in  the  song  "A  raibh  tu  ag  an  g-Carraig?")  "Her  hair  down- 
sweeping  to  her  sandal-tie". 

i)  Cf.  pp.  i,  i;    199,  6,  1.  4,   and  the  Scotch  poem   (trans,   by   Herder)   ;'O 
waly  waly  up  the  bank": 

"But  had  I  wist  before  I  kist, 

That  love  had  been  sae  ill  to  win; 
I  had  lockt  my  heart  in  a  case  of  gowd 
And  pinn'd  it  wi'  a  siller  pin." 


Appendix. 


1.  P.  ii,  6,  I.  i;  for  "yellow"  read  "waning".    I  had  imitated  Carew 
"A   Pastorall   Dialogue",   1.   14.      The   original   is:     "Der  tunkele   sterne, 
sich,  der  birget  sich''.     "Der  tunkele  sterne"  is  usually  translated  "Abend- 
stern",   evening-star,   but   the   sense   of  such   a   translation   is   not  clear. 
I  prefer  to  take  the  poem  as  the  first  crude  aubade  in   the  Minnesong. 
Cf.  Shelley,  ed.  Forman,  vol.  II.  p.  393: 

"The  lovely  star  when  morn  has  broke 
The  roof  of  darkness,  in  the  golden  dawn, 
Half-hidden  and  yet  beautiful." 

2.  P.  1 1 ,  8.     An   old  Italian   sonnet,   which  is  very  similar  to  this 
poem  and  to  that  on  p.  177,  has  been  translated  by  Rossetti  into  poetry: 

"O  my  own  falcon  whom  I  have  taught  and  rear'd! 

Sweet  bells  of  shining  gold  I  gave  to  thee, 
That  in  the  chase  thou  shouldst  not  be  afeard. 

Now  thou  hast  risen  like  the  risen  sea, 
Broken  thy  jesses  loose,  and  disappear'd 

As  soon  as  thou  wast  skilled  in  falconry." 

3.  P.  16,  note  2.     That   it   is   the   first  German   dawn-song   is  the 
generally   accepted   opinion:    for   the  suggestion  in  the  above  note  I  am 
alone   responsible.    —   It  is   hard   to   know   which   of  the  various  words 
used  by  different  writers  to  translate  "tageliet"  is  most  suitable.    Hallam, 
"Literature   of  Europe   in  the  Middle  Ages",    uses   "Watchman's  Song" 
(he    derives    his  knowledge   from   Weber's   "Northern  Antiquities");    Mr. 
Saintsbury,   Introduction   to  Donne's  Poems   in   the  Muses'  Library,  has 
"aubade",    while   Mr.   E.  K.  Chambers,   in   notes   to    same   volume,   has 
"Aubade  or  dawn-song";  Professor  Yorke  Powell  (Elton's  Life,  II,  p.  411), 
"'Dawn-Song";    Mr.    Gleeson  White,    "Ballades  and  Rondeaus",  "alba": 
Miss    Ida    Farnell,     "Troubadours",    "Alba"    or    Morning     Song;   'Mr. 
J.    F.    Rowbotham,    "Troubadours",     "aubade";    Mr.    F.    C.    Nicholson, 
"Daysong";  and  Mr.  Swinburne  gives  "alba"  in  his  magnificent  imitation 
of  an  anonymous   poem   (Bartsch,   Chr.   pr.,  6th  ed.,  p.  107).     By  way 
of  comparison  with  the  German  day-songs  I  give  below  a  translation  of 
Mr.  Swinburne's  model,  or  rather  antique  mould  which  he  has  filled  and 


—      204      — 

broken  with  a  whole  blast-furnaceful  of  glowing  nineteenth-century  passion 
("Poems  and  Ballads",  Vol.  2y  p.  102). 

Beneath  the  hawthorn,  bowered  in  orchard  deeps, 

Lady  by  lover  passion-wearied  sleeps 

Until  the  cry  of  him  that  vigil  keeps. 

Ah  God,  ah  God,  that  day  should  be~so  soon. 

"O  God,  thrust  back  into  the  outer  moat 

The  dawn  that  scales  the  world,  and  in  yon  throat 

Stifle  the  cries  that  over  partings  gloat! 

Ah  God,  ah  God,  that  day  should  be  so  soon. 

Press  me  upon  thy  heart,  love,  once  again! 
O  sure  the  birds  do  sing  their  sweetest  when 
Love  holds  his  triumph  over  jealous  men. 
Ah  God,  ah  God,  that  day  should  be  so  soon. 

The  morning  breeze  stirs  in  the  grasses,  see! 
And  with  the  breeze  I  drink  the  breath  of  thee, 
As  sweet  as  honey,  O  my  love,  to  me. 
Ah  God,  ah  God,  that  day  should  be  so  soon." 

The  lady  is  so  gracious,  fair,  and  sweet 
That  often  men  to  see  her  stay  their  feet 
Anear  her.     And  in  her  heart  is  no  deceit. 
Ah  God,  ah  God,  that  day  should  be  so  soon. 
4.  P.  30,  6.     v.  Hausen   was   himself  killed   in   the  Holy  Land  (at 
the   battle   of  Philomelium   in   1190).     Another  crusading-song  of  his  in 
the  same  vein  is  the  following  (Hiippe,  p.  35): 

"Grieved  were  I  if  any  noble  dame 
Came  by  chance  to  love  a  renegade; 
Must  she  not  assoil  her  own  fair  fame, 
And  with  his  disgrace  her  soul  degrade? 
Can  they  be  true  lovers,  who, 
God's  crusaders,  feared  and  ran? 
Sing  these  verses  to  the  craven  crew: 
I  salute  them  as  I  can. 
Though  I  never  see  them  more, 
Their  dishonour  I  with  tears  deplore." 

Sordello,  in  one  of  his  poems,  begs  his  lord,  the  Count  of  Provence,  to 
excuse  him  from  accompanying  him  on  a  Crusade,  as  he  is  afraid  of 
the  perils  he  would  be  exposed  to. 

5-  P-  35 >  v-  Morupgen  i.  The  first  stanza  is  translated  by  Schon- 
bach,  Die  alteren  Minnesinger,  p.  133.  The  second  stanza  was,  by  an 
oversight,  omitted;  I  give  it  here: 


—     205     — 

Many  will  murmur,   "Mark  how  he  is  singing! 

He  would  be  silent,  if  his  heart  were  sore." 

How  should  they  know  what  woe  my  heart  is  wringing? 

Now  I  will  do  even  as  I  did  before: 

In  their  despite  I  sing  as  heretofore, 

Even  when  they  mocked  me  for  the  grief  I  bore; 

And  how  should  one,  whom  all  regret  is  stinging, 

With  happy  faces  all  around  him,  soar? 

(1.  6  I  read  "do  huop  si  mich  gar  unho",  cf.  MF,  132,  30).    See  Michel 
pp.  138,   152,   182;  Wilm.,  Leben  III,  note  268. 

6.  P.  38,  3,  1.  3.     English  readers  will  be  reminded  of  Queen  Mary 
and  Calais,  and  also  of  the  ending  lines  in  Carew's  "Secresie  Protested": 
"Rip   up   my   heart,    Oh!   then  I  feare,    The   world    will  see  thy  picture 
there."     See  Schmidt,  Reinm.,  p.  116. 

7.  P.  39,  1.  3.     Wilmanns,  Leben,  II,  10,  interprets:  He  only  means 
that  his  song  is  in  the  mouths  of  many.     Michel  pp.  54,  90,   163. 

8.  P.  41,   7,    Ist  stanza.     Cf.  B.  de  Ventadorn  (Michel  p.  31): 
"I  never  thought 

Her  lovely  laughing  mouth  with  kisses  would  betray  me, 
Yet  that  sweet  mouth  did  with  one  sweet  kiss  slay  me." 

The   idea  is   familiar   to   the   poets   of  the  Pleiade,  cf.  du  Bellay,  "Les 

Amours"  XV: 

"For  all  the  sorrows  borne  in  helpless  shame 

Five  years  or  more  that  you  my  love  despise, 

For  all  the  tears,  and  all  the  burning  sighs 

I  heaved  up  from  my  heart's  deep  well,  I  claim 

This  kiss,  that  may  without  a  hint  of  blame, 

Or  jealousy,  or  fear  of  prying  eyes  — 

A  common  courtesy  that  courtiers  prize  — 

Be  given  in  grace  by  every  honest  dame. 

But  you,  whether  by  rigour,  or,  it  may  be, 

For  pity,  fearing  your  embrace  might  slay  me 

Swifter  than  thrust  of  an  assassin's  knife, 

Denied  the  boon.     If  you  in  pity  spare 

To  kiss,  misuse  not  so  the  love  I  bear, 

For  such  a  death  would  please  me  more  than  life." 

Equally  sensuous  is  Louise  Labe,  Sonnet  XIII: 

"If  I  were  fainted  on  that  manly  breast 

Of  him  for  whom  I  live  as  one  that  dies: 

If  I  could  dare,  out-brazening  envious  eyes, 

To  live  with  him  of  my  short  days  the  rest: 

If,  clasping  me,  he  murmured,  'My  heart's  best! 


206        

Let  us  suffice  each  other  in  such  wise, 
Torrent  of  earth  nor  tempest  of  the  skies 
The  one  shall  from  the  other's  bosom  wrest': 
If,  as  when  ivy  fastens  on  the  tree, 
I  clung  to  him,  and  Death,  for  envy  of  me, 
Slew  me,  between  us  thrusting  his  keen  knife, 
When  my  love's  kisses  had  their  sweetest  sting, 
And  on  his  lips  my  soul  was  hovering, 
I  should  die  well,  far  happier  than  in  life." 

More   of  v.  Morungen's   poetry  might  repay  translation.     MF,    131, 
33  seq.  he  has  expressed  in  full  a  motive  sketched  by  Keats  in  a  letter 
to  Fanny  Brawne  (Letters  ed.  Buxton  Forman  No.  115),   "To  see  those 
eyes  I  prize  above  my  own  Dart  favors  on  another  -  •": 
"  Let  not  that  smile  on  others  shine, 
Which,  as  I  claim,  is  wholly  mine; 
Nor  be  she  lavish  of  her  eyes 
To  those  her  eyes  do  not  concern; 
Nor  shake  enchantment  from  that  urn 
In  which  my  life's  subsistence  hoarded  lies." 
MF,  144,   24  —  30  is,  I  think,  good: 

"Breasts  are  no  safer  for  cuirasses: 
As  glass  against  the  sun  is  no  defence, 
Through  steel  of  harness  into  hearts  she  passes, 
Who  is  the  magnet  of  all  excellence, 
A  hive  of  a  hoarded  sweet, 

A  meadow  bursting  into  brightness  under  the  May-month's  feet." 
147,  4  —  1 6   he  has   a    version   of   "I   shall   but   love   thee   better  after 
death": 

"Why,  gentle  murderess,  be  so  fain 
To  kill  me  with  affliction  sore? 
Perchance  you  fancy,  I  being  slain, 
You  never  will  behold  me  more. 
Nay,  but  my  soul  of  yours  is  handmaiden; 
And  though  you  catch  my  body  in  a  mesh 
Of  torment,  when  you  are  issued  forth  to  spirit  from  flesh 
My  painless  soul  persistent  will  but  wait  on  you  again. " 
(1.   7,  "Quando  di  carne  a  spirto  era  salita",  II  Purgatorio,  XXX,  127). 
9-  P-  53  >  5-     Cf.  with  the  argument  of  this  poem  that  in  Waller's 
"In  Answer  to  Sir  John  Suckling's   Verses":  "'Tis  expectation  makes  a 
blessing   dear  .  .  .     Restraint  preserves  the  pleasures  we  have  got,  But 
he   ne'er  has   it   that   enjoys   it  not."     "Laws  of  Love"  (Livre  de  1'Art 
d'Aimer,  fol.  103;  Rowbotham,  p.  246),  14,  "Too  easy  possession  renders 


—     207      — 

love  contemptible";  29,  "Too  great  prodigality  of  favours  is  not  ad- 
visable, for  a  lover  who  is  wearied  with  a  superabundance  of  pleasure 
is  generally  disinclined  to  love". 

10.  P.  100,  58,   "Alas,   what   dreary  semblance  now  young  people 
bear!"     Cf.  Herrick,  " Hesperides ",  614:  "Lost  to  all  music  now,  since 
everything  Puts   on   the  semblance  here  of  sorrowing.     Sick  is  the  land 
to  the  heart  ..." 

11.  P.  in,   XXVI.      Otto  Julius   Bierbaum   has ,    in   the   following 
lyric,  caught  the  sweet,  sad  longing  of  the  old  dancing-songs  freeing  it- 
self in  boisterous  merriment: 

"On  the  green,  and  round  the  lime  too, 
There  is  a  dance  that  spins, 
And  a  song  to  keep  the  time  to, 
With  yearning  it  begins. 

Tears  gather,  as  we  sing  it, 
The  yearning  is  so  sweet  — 
Lift,  lift  your  feet,  and  fling  it, 
As  in  the  spring  is  meet." 

12.  P.  139,  12.     The  answers   are:    i)  Cain;    2)   ice,   or,   perhaps, 
mist;  3)  sun  and  wind. 

13.  P.  139,  13.     Still  more  offensive  to  the  person  addressed  is  the 
following  (Roethe   158): 

"Sir  Ralph,  you  are  so  clever,  I  hear  tell, 
If  you  can  solve  my  riddles,  you'll  do  well. 
How  many  feet  have  your  mother  and  her  donkey?  Answer  me  that! 

Now,  without  malice,  let  me  ask,  Sir  Ralph, 
How  many  feet  have  your  mother  and  her  pet  calf? 
This  is  no  riddle  for  a  good  friend  to  take  umbrage  at! 

Come,  come!    What,  can't  you  make  it  out  yet,  brother? 
My  ancestress,  you  know,  was  that  same  madam 
Who  was  of  all  your  ancestors  the  mother, 
And  we  are  kinsmen  on  the  side  of  Adam." 
The  answer  is  four,  not  six! 

14.  P.   148,   XLIII.      The   King   is   Conrad   IV,   elected  in    1237; 
the  Emperor  is  his  father,  Frederick  II;  the  King  of  Thuringia  is  Heinrich 
Raspe,  set  up  as  anti-king  in   1246;  and  the  Pope  is  Innocent  IV. 

15.  P.  152,  note  I.     The  original  is: 

"Her  beauties  are,  but  not  for  hire, 
The  body-guard  of  King  Desire. 
And  her  pure  life,  as  a  mirror  bright, 
Gives  despondent  hearts  delight." 


—        208        — 

Cf.  p.  39,  4,  1.  n,  and  Rossetti's  sonnet  ("House  of  Life",  LVIII): 

"Passion  to  her  is 

A  glass  facing  his  fire,  where  the  bright  bliss 
Is  mirrored  .  .  .  ." 

1 6.  P.  153,  note  3.     Remarkable  is  the  way  Folquet  of  Marseilles 
treats  the  idea  (Chr.  pr.,  p.  131,  1.  1 8  seq.) : 

"Love  honours  me  in  such  a  high  degree 

As  even  to  let  me  house  you  in  my  heart. 

Wherefore  I  do  beseech  you,  succour  me! 

And  save  me  from  your  own  enkindled  dart, 

Lest  you,  in  me  confined,  yourself  should  smart  - 

But  no,  deal  with  my  body  as  you  will, 

So  that  my  heart  may  be  your  dwelling  still." 

17.  P.  189,  LXIX.     The   legend   occurs   in   an    Indian  beast-fable, 
and   crops   up   in   various   places  in  the  Middle  Ages.     See  "Romania", 
vol.  8,   1879,  p.  343  seq.     The  most  famous  of  the  other  versions  are: 
i)   that   of  the  Chatelain   de   Coucy,   turned   into   a  ballad   by   Uhland, 
and    of    which    an   English   version   exists   ("The   Knyght  of  Courtesy", 
Ritson's    Ancient    English    Metrical    Romances,    London,    1802,    vol.  3, 
p.  193);    2)  that   of  William  of  Cabestaing  (Farnell,   p.  41),  adapted  by 
Boccaccio    in   the   Decameron  (4th  day,   novel   IX,   cf.   also   4th  day,   I). 
Conrad    of   Wurzburg's    "Herzmaere"    is    an    adaptation    of  the   French 
story.     See   also   Cento   Novelle  Antiche,    62.     Mr.  J.  F.  Rowbotham  in 
his  "Troubadours",  p.  263,  comments  on  the  story  of  Guillem  of  Cabe- 
staing:   "a  story   which   has   not   a   parallel   that   we  know  of  in  history 
or  fiction  since  the  times  of  Thyestes." 


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